To Carthage Then I Came
by Catorin
Summary: AU Spamano. Lovino is a barman with a quick temper, little tolerance for people, and a bad personality. Of course it would be just his luck that a new customer to his workplace is a certain Spaniard who ignores this, seems impossible to shake off, and won't take no for an answer.
1. Chapter 1

Lovino Vargas was not a happy person. That much was obvious to just about anyone who had ever met him. With a bad personality, a quick temper and a bad mouth to go with it, it was a wonder he still had his barkeeping job at all, even if he restrained himself with customers. Presently though he was faced with someone he knew he was going to have difficulty restraining himself with. The customer facing him was a tanned man; messy brown hair, a white shirt tight enough to show off a fairly toned body and a grin that gave the impression that he was one of those people who smiled far, _far_ too much. There could be no doubt that he was one of those guys who probably grinned in their sleep, and for someone like Lovino who went through life with a frown etched on their face most of the time there was nothing endearing to it. For a few seconds he thought about pretending to be busy serving someone else or restocking the place and to let Manon – his Belgian fellow barkeep – deal with the guy. But there was no one else waiting at the counter at the moment and Manon was gone for the hour. Forcing his face into the most neutral expression he could, he gave the man a nod.

"What will it be?" he asked, crossing his arms.

The man's grin spread wider as he sat himself down on the stool. "Just some sangria and your name will do," he said, his English coming out with a slight – what was that? Spanish? - accent, with an ever-so-slight lisp. Lovino let his frown return. _Fucking great, he's one of _those_ guys,_ he thought, ignoring the man's query and turning round to get the drink. Another one of those people who thought that clearly the bartender was just _dying_ to have a good conversation with some increasingly drunk stranger. Lovino didn't get along with most people when they were sober, let alone when they were drunk and spouting crap all over the place. He silently set the glass of sangria down in front of the guy and took the ten dollar note that he offered, counting up the change with practised ease and all but throwing it at him. The damned man was still smiling happily like he didn't have a care in the world. _I bet he's p__robably one of those fuckers that can't read the atmosphere for shit __too_, Lovino grumbled in his head.

"_Gracias_," the guy said. Definitely Spanish, or maybe Mexican or South American. "So, a cute guy like you must have a cute name to go with it, _sí_?" Lovino said nothing, simply crossing his arms, leaning back against the wall and looking away. Did people really do that? Mix languages together thinking it was somehow sexier or something? It's not like he ever dropped random Italian into his speech. He could only hope for the sake of everyone who met the guy that this idiot only did it when flirting, not in all conversation. "Mine's Antonio," the man continued, apparently oblivious to the obvious disinterest on Lovino's part. Lovino had to physically bite his tongue just to avoid spewing a torrent of insults. It wasn't like he hadn't been hit on by customers before, even some male ones, but most got the message when Lovino ignored them and so moved on to flirt with other, less likely to-scowl-and-insult-them-no-matter-what-they-said people. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was people who didn't understand simple non-verbal cues.

He was sorely tempted to tell Antonio – in very graphic terms – just what he could do with his name but he had already previously been warned by his boss that excessive rudeness to customers wasn't 'conducive to keeping your job'. So instead he simply scowled at the man, hoping he'd finally get the hint and leave him alone. "Really? Congratulations," he said, before blowing air through his teeth in irritation and looking away.

"Hey, your accent, Italian is it?" Antonio asked, still oblivious to Lovino's attempts at – politely – getting him to go away.

Lovino gritted his teeth before answering with a curt, "Well done, I'm Italian, want a medal?"

"I like it. I'm Spanish-"

Lovino sent the man a death-glare. "Spanish? Amazing, I think my horoscope warned me about you, something to do with irritants and headaches." _And persistent bastards._ At this rate he was going to just have to just out and out tell the Spaniard to leave him alone, consequences of rudeness be damned. Any normal person by now would have concluded that Lovino was not interested, hell, most normal people would have concluded by now that he had either had a bad day and should be left alone, was an angry jerk and thus not worth the time, or was probably straight or taken and thus quite annoyed at having a man trying to flirt with him.

"Loviiiiiiii!" A loud voice suddenly rang out as Lovino's brother Feliciano all-but-skipped to the counter.

"Feli, fuck, no need to scream," Lovino said, frowning and glaring over at his younger brother. He could already tell Feliciano had drunk enough to be quite tipsy, especially if he was being that loud already.

"Sorry, I just wanted another drink."

"Same thing?"

"Yep!"

Seated on the barstool besides him, Antonio looked over at Feliciano, then at Lovino, then at his drink before laughing. "_¡Dios mío!_ I'm seeing double and I haven't even finished my first drink yet."

Lovino scowled down at the Spaniard. "We're brothers, genius."

"Twins?"

"No." And with that short answer Lovino turned round to get Feliciano's drink. Noticing that the bottle was finished, he went out back to get another and by the time he came back Antonio and Feliciano were talking away, already deep in conversation. Lovino rolled his eyes. _Thank fuck, stop that oblivious idiot harassing me all night,_ he thought, setting the drink down in front of Feliciano, taking the note and placing the change down in front of his brother before moving off in case either of them thought to try and involve him in their inane prattle. Feliciano had it in his head that all Lovino needed was to meet 'the right person' and suddenly he'd be a social butterfly. Seeing no customers waiting to be served, he turned his back on the counter and leant against it, running a hand through his messy hair with a sigh. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 10:30pm. His shift ended in a half-hour when Manon – the owner's sister – would serve the few remaining customers on her own until the bar eventually closed at midnight.

"Hey, Lovi!" a voice called behind him. He spun round, and his eyes soon locked onto the caller. Antonio – that infuriating grin still plastered on his face, _of course_ – was waving his empty glass, obviously asking for a refill. Besides him, Feliciano, who was making no secret that he was already quite tipsy, was also waving his own – half-full – glass, giggling at something, not that Feliciano ever particularly needed a _reason_ to laugh, especially when drunk.

Lovino scowled, moving over to the pair. "It's Lovino, bastard," he told the Spaniard, narrowing his eyes in what he could only hope was an intimidating way. He was really beginning to have more than enough of this idiot. He couldn't wait for his shift to end so he could get away from him.

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Lovino, so don't fucking call me Lovi."

"Aww, but Lovi is much cuter. It suits you better!"

Lovino snatched the empty glass from the man's hand. "Fuck, will you stop saying shit like that!"

"But it's true!" Antonio protested.

Besides him Feliciano nodded furiously. "_Si! Si, si!_ Lovi's nicer!" he said, emptying his glass and waving it at Lovino.

Lovino didn't bother to ask Antonio what he wanted, simply refilling the glass with sangria. He slammed it in front of the man, then glared at Feliciano, taking the glass from his hand. "And you," he told his brother, a frown etching itself on his face, "are not drinking any more tonight."

"But Lovino I only-"

"Had too much and are being unbearable, _I know_. You're already mixing up your languages."

Lovino heard Antonio chuckle and immediately rounded on him, glaring furiously. "And what the fuck are you laughing at?" he snapped.

Antonio held up his hands in defence, still chuckling slightly. "Nothing! I wasn't laughing at you, I swear! It's just cute the way you're looking out for Feliciano."

"Jesus Christ! Is 'cute' the only adjective in your dictionary? Seriously, bastard, of course I'm gonna look after him. Look at him, he's a naïve wreck who can barely look after himself. He's one drink away from singing the national anthem under the table!"

"Aw, come on, I'm sure he can look after himself fine."

Lovino slammed both hands onto the counter, leaning over to glare at Antonio straight in the eyes. "What? You flirt with him for twenty fucking minutes and suddenly you've got a better idea of what kind of guy he is than the brother who's looked after him his entire fucking life?"

"N-no, that's not what I meant! I just-"

"Whatever. I'll let you two get back to your chatter and go and do my 'over-protective and overbearing brother' shtick from a distance, how's that sound?"

"I didn't mean to-" Antonio began, only to trail off as Lovino spun round on his heel, marching to the other end of the counter where another customer was waiting for a refill, a curious and amused expression on her face at the sight of the barman arguing with another customer. After serving her and the three after, Lovino glanced over at Antonio and Feliciano. The two were back in conversation, Feliciano telling some story complete with his usual flurry of gestures. Antonio had already finished his second glass, and held it up, glancing over towards Lovino, only to be met with a glare that made him almost sheepishly put the glass down and turn back to talking with Feliciano. Lovino felt some stupid pride in having apparently managed to cow the man from irritating him further. Sighing once again, he leant against the counter. Before he had time to react a hand came from outside his field of vision, pinching his cheek and pulling it half up out of the scowl that still occupied his face.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he swore, jerking his head back and swatting the hand away. He turned round and found himself faced with Manon, his co-worker.

"You're scowling again and I saw you glare daggers at the guy talking to your brother," she said, amusement in her voice as she dropped her bag out of sight under the counter. "What'd he do?"

"Nothing, jeez. Just another annoying guy."

"Oh please." The Belgian woman laughed, leaning against the counter. "You think that about _all_ guys, but you don't tend to scare them out of getting another drink." She grinned. "You're lucky Lars didn't catch you doing that." Lars, Manon's half-brother, was the owner of the bar. He was a large Dutchman – he and Manon shared a father and had all-but-grown up together – who tolerated Lovino so long as he didn't keep customers away.

"Your brother would probably be too stoned to notice," Lovino mumbled, absent-mindedly tracing a finger around the rim of an empty beer glass. It was true that Lars probably would have taken a dim view of Lovino's snapping at a customer. The Dutchman had already warned Lovino several times that if he didn't rein his temper in he'd have to be let go. There was some irony in the fact that – like Lovino – Lars himself didn't smile that much either, his face usually stuck in a neutral or bored look. Still, sometimes Lovino wondered if the only reason he still had his job was because of his friendship with Manon. The girl refusing to let her brother fire Lovino was very much the sort of thing she'd do.

Manon laughed. "Oh come on, it's not like he's some hippie always on drugs all the time."

Lovino grinned over to her. "Really? That's a damn good disguise he's got then, fooled me completely. All he needs is the long hair and to make a few peace signs."

Manon swatted his shoulder with a hand, still laughing. "Better not let him hear you. Or he'll take the disguise off and you'll see the professional side of him."

"Where is our _professional_ dear leader, anyway? You took his shift before I got here didn't you?"

Manon giggled in a conspiratorial way. "He's got a _date,_" she said, sounding less like a grown woman and more like a little girl who still thought men had cooties.

Lovino grimaced melodramatically. "A date with him? That must be _great fun_. All mumbling, smoke, and gruff silence."

Manon seemed on the verge of saying something to defend her brother but settled for throwing a wash-cloth at Lovino. They continued their banter for a few minutes more before Manon stopped. "Anyway, I'd better get on to work, unless you want to oh-so-kindly help me serve the last few drunks here. I'd better go serve that guy before he dies of thirst out of fear of ordering anything that might make you glare at him." And with that she moved past Lovino over to Antonio and Feliciano who were still deep in conversation, the two grinning and giggling like kids. Lovino watched them for a few seconds, torn between either leaving or making sure that the damned Spaniard didn't keep bothering his brother. Antonio must have noticed him looking because their eyes met and he and grinned, raising his – still empty, he'd apparently refused a refill after all – glass in a sort of toast. Lovino simply scowled back and spun round to turn his back on the man.

He spent a few seconds pretending he was busy tidying something in hopes of getting the Spaniard to think he was still working and stop staring at him, then turned back. "Hey, Manon?" he called after the barmaid. She spun around, raising an eyebrow in query. "Don't let Feliciano drink any more." Manon laughed, well used to Lovino taking charge of Feliciano's well-being. Despite an audible protest from Feliciano behind her, she nodded, waving Lovino off.

Rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn, Lovino went to the restroom quickly before going behind back to get his jacket. He shrugged it on before returning out to the front. There were already only about six people left, including Feliciano who was babbling to a smiling and nodding Manon. He noticed Antonio seemed to have gone. _Looks like the bastard's flirting failed_, Lovino thought with a wry grin to himself. He was happy to see that idiotic Spanish creep away from Feli. Had it been a few years previous he would have taken a much more active role in making Antonio back off. During his teens Lovino had been over-protective to a fault towards his younger brother. Their early life had been pretty troubled, with their parents dying when they were babies, their grandfather dying when they were just kids and the two of them eventually – mostly thanks to Feliciano, Lovino imagined – being adopted by Roderich and Elizabeta – friends of their grandfather – and taken to Austria. From all this Lovino had gotten into his head the idea that he had a duty to protect his naïve brother from the pains of the world and dangerous people. And to the antisocial Lovino, _any_ person was a potential dangerous person. To this end he'd scared off any potential girlfriends or boyfriends to the point that Feliciano didn't even dare invite friends to the house. Eventually, he'd actually _snapped_ at Lovino to stop messing up his personal life. For Lovino – who had been sure he was protecting his kid brother from all sorts of evil people who would use his innocence and naivety – it had been a nasty shock. He frowned at the memory as he buttoned his jacket. In the end the real truth had been that no one could possibly think of using poor little sweet Feliciano, it was Lovino who was used to get_ to_ him. If he was so antisocial it was because people had always tried to get to know him for Feliciano's sake and not for his own; or at least, that's what he told himself.

He waved goodbye to Manon and Feliciano before leaving the bar – and walking straight into someone standing just in front of the door. The impact made him stumble backwards and his foot got caught on the step, sending the Italian crashing into the door-frame and down onto the floor.

A voice came through the torrent of swearing and cursing Lovino unleashed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "_¡Dios mío!_ Sorry, I was just putting my jacket on and-" The voice trailed off as Lovino looked up with the angriest glare he could muster as he connected that Spanish-accented voice to its owner.

He swatted the offered helping hand out of the way and pulled himself up on his own. "Jesus fucking Christ! The fuck did you think you were doing standing in the middle of the way, bastard!? What? You fucking forgot how your shitty excuses for legs work?"

"I'm really sorry! I just stopped two seconds to put my jacket on and-" The Spaniard seemed so apologetic, almost to the point of stammering that Lovino felt the will to stand there and shout more insults at the man leave him.

He made a harrumphing noise, crossing his arms. "Fine, whatever. Apology accepted. Just go-"

"I'm glad I caught you though, Lovi- uh, I mean Lovino"

"What?" Lovino said, mouth curling down into a scowl. _Jeez, he's not gonna start flirting __a__n__d shit__ out here too is h__e? What a creep._

"I just wanted to apologize if I offended you in there when I was talking about Feliciano."

"Oh." Lovino shrugged, having mostly pushed the incident to the back of his mind. People often told him that he was over-protective towards Feliciano. He put back on a neutral expression and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I wasn't offended." He was used to it.

A relieved grin enveloped Antonio's face. "Oh, good! I was worried I upset you. You just looked really angry-"

"Might have something to do with the Spaniard who's been bothering me all night."

Antonio gave a chuckle. "You're cute when you pout, you know."

Yet another scowl flashed onto Lovino's face. "Fucking hell! Do you ever stop? Coming out with shit like that from nowhere! It's all 'cute this' and 'cute that'. You're such a-a-a pervert!"

A look of utter confusion swept across Antonio's face. _"__P__e__r__-__p__ervert__?_ What? But it's true!"

"Ugh, just go away already, bastard." And with that, Lovino moved past the tanned man, moving down the street into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Lovino had already forgotten the Spaniard from last night by the time he got up the next morning. He went about his usual morning routine, same as he did every Friday: making breakfast, a quick shower and then a trip down to the morning market at the town centre. He often went down to the market on Fridays for fresh fruit and vegetables for the week's cooking. It was perhaps more expensive than buying them at a supermarket but you couldn't put a price on good fresh food. It wasn't because he wasn't rolling in money that the Italian was going to put his culinary pride aside. Putting on his jacket, he left the apartment, heading down for the streets.

His small apartment was in a pretty cheap part of town – working as a bartender didn't exactly make for a lot of money to spend on a fancy place. That said, it wasn't too far from the town centre: twenty minute's walk if you took the alley shortcuts. The crowds thronged around him as he made his way into the market square, taking in the smells of the place as he looked round to spy out the stands carrying what he wanted. You couldn't just take the first thing you saw, the quality of the food made all the difference in a meal and it was more than worth it to spent a bit more time and money to find the fresher fruit or vegetables than simply take the first or cheapest you saw. Half an hour later, he found himself with his arms loaded with a bag full of assorted fruits and vegetables. That was when he spotted Antonio.

It took Lovino a few seconds to recognise the Spaniard from last night, having not expected to see him again – much less at the market of all places – and it was with a mounting sense of irritation and annoyance that he saw Antonio turn round, one arm likewise laden with a paper bag filled with fruit or vegetables. _Don't see me, fuck, please don't see-_

"Lovino?" Antonio's face lit up with the giant grin Lovino remembered all-too-well from last night. _Fuck_.He tried to ignore the man, pretending not to have heard, in the desperate hope he could still avoid having to deal with him again. "Hey! Lovino!" Antonio called again.

No such luck. Lovino gritted his teeth as Antonio hurried up to him, still flashing his winning-smile. "You again? What do you want?" Lovino snapped. Maybe now that he was completely sober Antonio would get the message and leave him the fuck alone.

"Nothing, I'm just surprised to see you here. I didn't know you came to this market!"

"Hardly surprising considering you fucking met me just yesterday and we barely spoke."

Antonio laughed, running his one free hand through his messy brown hair. "Yeah, that's true." He hesitated a few seconds before flashing Lovino another grin. "I'd love to get to know you better though! Hey, if you're free after you finish shopping maybe we could get a coffee or something?"

_How can you be so fucking oblivious!? _Lovino raged internally. It wasn't normal for people to completely miss the obvious signs like this. He scowled at the man, making a dismissive noise. "Can't," he replied shortly, "busy today."

"Oh." Antonio's face fell, but in a few seconds his smile was back again, natural as anything.

"Well how about if you're free any time during the week?"

"Can't," Lovino repeated, gritting his teeth slightly, "busy this week."

"How about next week?"

"Busy today, this week, and forever more."

The Spaniard gave a wry grin. "Forever more? You'll want to watch that you don't overwork yourself at that rate."

Lovino rolled his eyes, blowing air out his teeth. "It's less stressful than dealing with you." Antonio looked crestfallen, his smile dropping. A surge of vicious pleasure shot through Lovino as he saw this, finally proving that the Spaniard's obliviousness had a limit.

Antonio ran his hand through his hair again, rubbing the back of his head. "I, uh, I don't mean to be stressful, sorry," he said, his shoulders slumping slightly.

Much like last night, he seemed so apologetic – despite the fact that Lovino had given him no reason whatsoever to care about being stressful to the Italian or not – that Lovino felt slightly guilty about it. Sometimes Antonio reminded him of a small kid wanting to please and then being crushed when he was told off. And that itself reminded him unpleasantly of himself as a kid. "Whatever. Just learn to read the actual atmosphere a bit, that's all," he mumbled dismissively, shifting his eyes sideways. There were these occasional flashes of something about Antonio, he realised, something that just seemed to calm him down even when it was the Spaniard himself who riled him up. Antonio would stick his own foot in his mouth, then apologise like a scolded puppy afterwards.

The tanned man made a noise halfway between a chuckle and an actual laugh. "You're not the first person to say that," he admitted, grin back on his face.

Lovino let a small smile touch his lips. "I'd honestly be shocked if I was."

There was silence between the two of them for a few seconds before Antonio spoke. "So, what were you looking for?" he asked, before adding, "Uh, here at the market I mean." As though it hadn't been obvious that was what he was asking.

Lovino was sorely tempted to say that he'd done all his shopping and was going home now, just to get away from this conversation. But in truth he still had some stuff to pick up and – damn it all – it wasn't this Spanish bastard who was going to stop him from getting his weekly shopping done just because he couldn't understand simple hints to leave people alone. "Just some tomatoes," he replied, letting his voice fall back into its gruffer tone.

To his horror a wide smile lit up Antonio's features. "Oh I love tomatoes! I know a stall here that sells really delicious ones! Here I'll show you!" He held out his free hand as though honestly expecting Lovino to actually grasp it. The Italian simply gave him an incredulous stare and didn't move.

Undaunted, Antonio grasped Lovino's shoulder and before the Italian could do anything had spun him round and was steering him forward. "The fuck?! Hey! Don't push me around! Get the fuck off me, you damn bastard!" Lovino snapped, swatting the Spaniard's hand away and sending his elbow hard back into Antonio's shoulder. He pulled himself free and took a step back, almost shaking from surprise and anger and ignoring the stares of other people around them. "I can follow perfectly fine without being steered around like a cow."

Antonio gave an apologetic smile, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Sorry! Got sorta carried away." Then he beckoned and ploughed ahead in the crowd, moving towards the edges of the market. For a few seconds Lovino stood there, a furious scowl on his face and a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He considered simply slipping away; by the time Antonio noticed he would be lost in the crowd. However he decided against it in the end, he was stubborn to a point. He needed tomatoes and he wasn't going to let some idiot with no concept of personal space or leaving-people-the-fuck-alone stop him. It was just a bad moment he needed to get through, that was all, after this he was free.

The stall Antonio had been talking about stood right at the edge of the market, tended to by an old man who seemed half-asleep.

Antonio turned to grin at Lovino. "Here, I'll buy them for you. How many do you want?"

Lovino could only gape at the Spaniard. "What? No. I'll buy my own tomatoes, thank-you-very-much, bastard."

""What? No I didn't mean that! It's because I know the stall owner, he always slips me some extras, so if I buy them then you can have some extra too! You can pay me back of course."

Lovino hesitated, caught between his pride and the promise of a few extra free tomatoes. Eventually the promise of free food came out on top and he relented. "Fine, but I'm paying you back dammit, I don't accept – or need – charity." He stood back while he watched Antonio discuss with the old man for what seemed like an eternity. Apparently the two knew each other quite well indeed, if the long inquest into how each other and how the old man's family were doing was any show. Once or twice he thought he saw Antonio gesture over to him and the old man glance in his direction and so Lovino moved slightly away, letting a scowl fall on his face in the hopes of discouraging any one of them from trying to draw him into their inane conversation. It was bad enough having to put up with Antonio, he didn't need to be ganged up against with some random stall-vendor too. Either it worked or the two had never had any desire to include him in the conversation because they continued wrapped up in their own little talk for several more minutes, Antonio even writing something down at some point. Soon enough the Spaniard was back, two bags of tomatoes in hand while the old man waved him off, laughing at something and sat back down in his chair, clearing intent on dozing off again. It was a wonder he didn't have people simply stealing his produce.

Antonio held out one of the bags of tomatoes to Lovino, still grinning like he'd won the lottery. "There you go, and he even offered three for free. You can have them."

Lovino didn't meet Antonio's gaze, his face neutral as he took the bag. Three extra tomatoes was nice, but he wasn't happy that it was thanks to Antonio that he'd got them; it gave the feeling of being indebted to the guy, and the last thing Lovino wanted was to see him again. He could only pray that he wouldn't think the Italian owed him something. "Thanks, I guess. How much?"

"Huh?"

"How much do I owe you for these?" He was worried for a few seconds that Antonio would try to insist he didn't need to pay, that it was a gift or something. But Antonio did not try to twist the words, simply telling him the amount and soon enough Lovino had given him the money back. There was a few seconds silence as the two stood slightly awkwardly on the edge of the market.

"So," Antonio said after a while, all while Lovino tried to think of an excuse to escape, "still no for that coffee?"

"No means no."

Antonio laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Heh, yeah, sorry. Well if you're fr-"

"I need to be going," Lovino interrupted. _To hell with subtlety and tact._ "Better things to do."

The tanned man looked slightly crestfallen but nodded. "Ye-yeah of course! Well I'll see you around I guess?"

_Hopefully not, _Lovino thought, but he said nothing and simply turned round and left. It was not far back to his apartment, and twenty minutes later he was back inside. He placed the bags of groceries down onto the table counter and began to put everything into its place. When he came onto the tomatoes he emptied them into the container and a piece of paper fell down with them, having clearly been stuffed at the bottom of the bag. Curious, he picked it up. There was something written on it:

_ Hey Lovino, if your schedule frees up at any point I'd love to see you again, maybe get a coffee or something? Here's my number if you want to at any point:_

_ Take care!_

_ Antonio_

At the bottom there was – indeed – a phone number scrawled. Lovino stared dumbfounded at the note for several seconds. This had never really happened to him before. The old 'hide a note with a phone number and make sure they get it' ploy? He'd always thought this was the sort of thing that only happened in films and books and the like, not in real life. The kind of sappy romance that would have a waiter or something write a number on a napkin and slip it to the person, that sort of thing. The only addition that could possibly have completed this film-like scene was a 'call me!' or love-heart scribbled onto it, though Antonio apparently had more class than that. That in itself came as a surprise considering the guy seemed like a sap who'd probably consider it 'cute'. Lovino toyed with the piece of paper in his hands even as his mind toyed with the idea of calling the Spaniard to tell him once and for all to leave him alone. He didn't do dating, relationships, anything of that sort. Hell, even when it came to friendship he had very few friends. Manon was probably the only person he could truly consider a friend and he probably would never have befriended her if she hadn't been his co-worker. He sometimes even wondered why she put up with him; she was pretty much the first to manage it. People didn't like him and he didn't like them. He'd had some one-night stands, when both he and the other person were too drunk to know better, but when the Italian would wake the next day he tended to go straight into a mix of fury and self-disgust and kick the other person out. His natural quick-trigger temper tended to be too much to ever make things more than a drunken accident and outside of that discouraged anyone from trying to befriend him. Eventually he decided against calling Antonio and tore the note into two pieces, scrunching them up and throwing them into the bin. He had no desire to waste his time with an oblivious pervert like that Spaniard. He wouldn't be surprised if calling him only made him think Lovino was interested, even if the Italian spent the call swearing at him from the other end. Some people honestly had nothing where their brains were supposed to be, it seemed.

"Fuckin' persistent bastard," he muttered to the empty apartment, getting back to the task of putting the everything away.

By the time evening came Lovino had mostly forgotten about the note, though it was still at the back of his mind. It was as he made his way to the bar to take the evening shift that he remembered it unbidden and promptly tried to push it back out of his mind.

Manon was there waiting for him when he arrived. She took one look at the Italian and crossed her arms. "Something on your mind?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lovino almost sputtered. "The fuck? How do you do that?" Sometimes he wondered if Manon wasn't secretly a skilled psychic or something. The Belgian had learnt to read Lovino like a book, even when he wasn't really thinking of a specific thing.

"Well?" she asked again, stifling a giggle.

"It's nothing," he replied, crossing his arms. She leant against the counter, her eyes not leaving him. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get out of this. He might be stubborn but so was she. He pouted for a few seconds more before relenting. "It's nothing, just an annoying guy."

Her eyebrow shot back up again, as if on a spring. "Same guy from last night? Or another one?"

"Does it particularly matter?"

"Well I can't help a friend out if he won't tell me anything." She laughed, one hand moving up to pinch the Italian's cheek. He batted it away. He always felt awkward when she talked about helping him out as a friend. It always left him conscious of the fact that he never helped her, terrible friend that he was. It reminded him that he took and rarely gave.

"Same guy, ran into him by pure misfortune. Doesn't matter at all, I won't be seeing him again."

"He might come back here."

"And if he does I'll give him a piece of my mind."

Another trilling laugh. "I thought that was what you always did?"

Lovino snorted before replying with a wry smile. "I am the most tactful and polite fucker you know, admit it."

"Well, I always did have poor taste in friends." She laughed again.

The wash-cloth Lovino had been absent-mindedly toying with in one hand went flying, hitting the Belgian woman in the forehead and settling over her blonde hair. Lovino grinned at her. "Not as poor as your taste in head-wear apparently." She plucked it off, sending it back into the Italian's face with a giggle. "Where's your brother anyway?" Lovino asked. Lars was absent again. The Dutchman didn't work most nights – being the owner he felt entitled to decide his own work hours and he knew he could trust Manon to run the bar in his absence – but he was usually here to help on a Friday night.

Manon grinned wickedly. "Ill. I think something he ate on his date last night disagreed with him." The grin faded and she gave a shrug. "He's OK though, tucked up in bed at home last I heard. But that means it's only the two of us here tonight." She pushed herself up off the counter and moved away to serve a customer. Lovino leant back against the wall, running one hand through his messy brown hair. He frowned, Friday nights at the bar were usually pretty hectic, and he got the horrible feeling today would prove no different. Normally Feliciano – who was, if nothing else, a welcome break from the rest of the customers – would arrive sometime between seven and nine. He often came to the bar once or twice a week in the evening when Lovino was working. The brothers didn't see each other much during the week. Lovino preferred to keep to himself and usually worked the evening and night shifts, while Feliciano worked in some art company as a fairly successful artist and was – unlike him – very social and often out and about seeing people. It was only about half-six at the time. Forcing his face into a neutral expression, he got to work.

Feliciano did arrive sometime after nine. That wasn't surprising, he often went out to dinner with co-workers on Fridays. What was surprising – or rather, rage-inducing might have been the better word – was who he arrived with. Deep in conversation with his brother was Antonio, and with them was some oversized man with his blond-hair slicked back into a professional look and what appeared to be an albino, complete with white hair and reddish eyes. A deep scowl set itself onto Lovino's face, one hand clenching the bar side until his knuckles turned white. _What. The. FUCK,_ he raged internally. He turned to see if there was any way he could fob the group off to Manon – brother or no brother – but she was already too busy serving another set of customers and so it was to a furiously scowling Italian that Feliciano and the group arrived at the counter.

Feliciano, as usual, seemed oblivious to Lovino's apoplectic face – or perhaps had simply learnt to ignore it over the years. "_Ciao_ Lovi!" he greeted his brother, eliciting a gruff grunt and a muttered 'Feli'. Lovino glanced at Antonio, almost daring him to speak. The Spaniard seemed on the verge to do so when Feliciano cut him off. "I met Antonio and his friends outside!" he explained excitedly. He pointed at the large blond-haired man, "This is Ludwig and," he pointed at the white-haired man, "his brother Gilbert!"

"A pleasure to meet you," Ludwig said, his voice deep and drenched with a German accent. Lovino groaned audibly. "Whatever. Are you going to order something? If not then I'm going to have to ask you to _leave_." He emphasised the last word with a relish that left no doubt that he wanted them to do precisely that.

His vehemence seemed to take the German brothers by surprise. He guessed Feliciano and Antonio hadn't warned them about him. Ludwig seemed lost for words while Gilbert cracked a large grin. "Ooo, look out, Ludwig, looks like your charms won't work on this one," he laughed, giving his larger brother a nudge with his elbow. Ludwig was apparently not amused by this as he turned on his brother and the two began conversing in what Lovino imagined could only be German. That left a still-scowling Lovino faced with Feliciano and Antonio's twin smiles.

There was a short silence between the three of them before Lovino spoke. "So are you actually going to order something or not?"

"Have you had a bad day, Lovi? You're not usually this-" Feliciano began.

Lovino cut him off. "I have had a day so wonderful I'd shit fucking rainbows if we weren't in public. Now are you and the three stooges going to order anything or not? Other customers are waiting." His curt tone apparently had the desired effect as Feliciano didn't probe any further and simply ordered his drink. Antonio too – thankfully – refrained from engaging in any small talk for once, and didn't even inquire if Lovino had gotten his note, simply giving the irate Italian a wide grin and a wink and leaving with his drink. Ludwig and Gilbert had apparently finished their little talk and ordered after Antonio and soon the four of them were seated at a table, away from Lovino. Once they were gone the Italian served the next few customers then – with no one else needing a drink – leant back against the bar, sighing deeply.

He was interrupted again by Feliciano and took this opportunity to vent his frustration. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped.

Eyes wide in surprise, Feliciano raised his hands in what Lovino had quickly learnt was meant to be a calming gesture. "Wha-"

"Bringing that damn idiot here – and that oversized kraut-sucker and the albino."

"What? I didn't bring them here, I just met them outside! Come on, Lovi, Antonio's a cool guy, and Ludwig and Gilbert seem cool too! Just give them a chance, please? Please? You won't know if you like them if you don't. Pleeeeeeease?"

"Feli! Fuck. Don't try and drag me into this. I'm not some poor shy teenager just waiting for some wonderful guy or girl to burst into my life, sing a happy song, and show me the joy of living."

"But-"

"No. Just drop it and keep your new friends away from me."

"You always do this." Feliciano was frowning now and Lovino knew where this was going to go. This was the usual when Feliciano made new friends and tried to introduce his brother to them. "Always hiding in your little shell pretending everyone's too mean or that you're too horrible or nasty or disgusting – or whatever – to have friends. C'mon Lovi! Please. If you stopped imagining that everyone was out to get you you'd be so-"

"We've had this conversation before Feli, and it always ends the same way. Now _drop it_."

Feliciano looked down, eyes sad now. "I worry about you, you know."

Lovino scowled. "I don't need anyone to worry about me goddammit!"

Feliciano opened his mouth to argue but closed it again under the intensity of Lovino's glare. With a helpless shrug he left, going back to sit with the trio at the table. With him gone Lovino breathed a deep sigh and leant back against the counter. He probably shouldn't have snapped at Feliciano like that, but for years now his brother had argued the same thing and his argument could basically be summed up as: '_oh Lovi if only you were nice you'd have friends!'. _A bitter smile rose on Lovino's face. Like everyone else hadn't told him that before. How was Feliciano supposed to understand? How could he? He'd always been a perfect, kind, and popular guy who could charm someone with a smile and if he ever screwed up only needed to look sad and everyone's heart would melt. In contrast Lovino was sour, quick-tempered, bitter, and bad with people. He wasn't nice. Even when he tried to be nice he'd just be repressing rage and lying through his teeth. What kind of friendship could he hope for with anyone if it was built on the lie that Lovino was a nice guy? In his two decades plus of life Manon was pretty much the first proper friend he'd had, and he still didn't know how that had happened. Sighing once more for good measure, he took a second to rest his head in his hands, already feeling the beginnings of a headache, then he pushed himself up and moved to serve the waiting customers.

The night continued much smoother than Lovino had feared, with Feliciano and his little group not trying to engage the Italian in any more conversation. They only came up to the counter for more drinks, and it was fairly easy to avoid them. Feliciano seemed to be sulking and refusing to talk to Lovino; while in the case of the other three Lovino always made sure to be busy with other customers and dawdle long enough for Manon to be the one to get them more drinks. In fact it was almost a return to normalcy, where he just had to put up with a few annoying customers that could take a hint – or better still the vast majority of customers that didn't try to make conversation.

It was around ten when that normalcy began to get shaky during a lull in the customers. He was leaning against the counter with a glass of water in one hand as Manon settled herself besides him.

"Well?" She grinned as Lovino raised a confused eyebrow. "Is tall, dark, and handsome here tonight?"

It took him a few seconds to work out who she meant and he snorted derisively in response. "He's none of those things. Well, except for tall, which is no surprise, perverts usually are. Tall, thin, and creepy."

She gave her usual trilling giggle, turning round and propping her elbows on the counter, resting her face between her hands as she scanned the bar for the group. "Oh, I don't know about that. He's quite cute, pretty well toned too. Must do quite a bit of working out."

Lovino grunted, not wanting to admit anything nice about the Spaniard. "Probably all that running away when people call the cops on him for harassing them."

"Well, I don't think you need to be worried about him trying to flirt with you again, he and Feliciano seem to be getting on quite well."

That got Lovino's attention as he whipped round and his eyes met the group around the table. Manon had been right, Feliciano was practically draped over Antonio. "Fuck, fuck, fucking-" A sick feeling grew in his stomach as he watched the two. He was sorely disappointed in Feliciano – but then his brother rarely made great choices. No, the one he was especially furious with was Antonio. The Spaniard had spent the afternoon harassing Lovino, only to then go and drape himself over Feliciano. He supposed he should be happy that Antonio had finally gotten the hint and decided to leave Lovino alone, but to then go straight after Feliciano hurt in more ways than one.

He felt Manon's hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't worry, Lovino. Feliciano can take care of himself in this, I'm sure. If you go charging in there you'll just come across as the overbearing brother and Feli will probably be pissed off for a good while." He knew she was trying to stop him doing something stupid like going over to drag Feliciano away or something. More than anyone except their parents she knew Lovino could be more than over-protective of his brother.

Lovino growled. "Like I give a shit what I come across to those three. Feli's already pissed off at me anyway. He'll sulk for the rest of the evening, but that's it. It's not like he's got the capacity to hate for more than a few hours."

Manon sighed but didn't probe any further, pushing herself up. She knew when she couldn't win an argument with the Italian and had no desire to push his anger-buttons. "Just don't do anything rash is what I mean." And with that she moved off to serve some customers.

"I wasn't planning to!" Lovino called indignantly after her. While furious, he had no intention of going over into the bastard-zone and making matters worse. He'd already learnt from long experience that that didn't work. With a sigh, Lovino pushed himself up and went to serve a waiting customer. It was once he finished serving the lady and her friends that the prior normalcy completely shattered as they moved off and Lovino found himself staring at Antonio.

There was no way he could pretend he was busy or hadn't seen the Spaniard. He forced his face into a neutral expression. "What do you want?"

Antonio grinned. "Just some conversation would be great."

"I'm not paid to talk." And with that Lovino looked round to see if anyone else needed serving, only to see no one waiting. _Fuck_. He gave a pained sigh and turned back to Antonio. Time to be frank and put an end to this. "Look, Antonio." His voice was forced calm. "What exactly do you want? To be magical happy best friends forever? Because that ain't going to happen."

The tanned man gave an almost apologetic expression. "I'd settle for just regular friends."

"Fu-"

"I'm serious about that conversation though." He ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, did you get my note?"

Lovino had had plenty of time to think of a proper response in case he was asked this, and wasted no time using it. "What note?"

Antonio's shoulders slumped somewhat. "The-the one in the bag of tomatoes?"

"Oh that. Tore it up. I told you, full schedule forever." That ever-so-slightly awkward and disappointed look on the Spaniard's face almost made the entire encounter at the market worthwhile and Lovino had to force down a smile. But then a hurt look passed over Antonio's face and a slight guilt popped up. _Fuck, what's that about? Like I give a shit if I hurt the bastard's feeling__s_, he thought, throttling that sliver of guilt down. He looked round again to see if there were any customers he could use as a way to get out of this conversation. Just his luck, the only one that needed serving was already being served by Manon. He crossed his arms, blowing air out his teeth in frustration. Of course this conversation would come in a lull in customer activity.

"Oh, well, never-mind then." There was a few seconds silence before Antonio spoke again. "So how about that conversation?"

"God-dammit what did I do to deserve this?"

Antonio's smile returned. "Hey now, how do you expect to make friends with an attitude like that?"

"Maybe I don't want or need your friendship."

The grin grew wider. "Maybe friendship isn't something you ask for, it's something you wake up one day and realise you have."

"Maybe you should leave the peace-and-love talks to Jesus."

"Maybe you should leave the hate-and-anger talks to Satan."

Lovino leant forward and glared the man in the eyes, trying to ignore the infuriating smile plastered on the guy's face. "Maybe you should leave me the hell alone."

Antonio's grin grew another few teeth. "See what I mean? You need to relax a bit!"

"Relax_?_ I'll relax when you leave me the fuck alone."

"Come on Lovino, I just want to get to know you better! I'm sure we could be good friends if you just give me a chance."

The Italian narrowed his eyes. "You seriously fucking think I don't know what you're doing?"

"What do you-"

"You think I haven't seen you and Feli? The two of you were practically on top of each other. You think I haven't heard Feliciano talking about you? And now you want to ingratiate yourself with his brother, get the brotherly permission to fuck him and you expect me to be all grins and laughs? You think I'm not used to people trying to be friends with me just because they want to be with Feliciano and think they need to be friends with the whole fucking family?"

A deep frown fell onto Antonio's face. "N-no that's not it at all."

"Listen here." Lovino's voice was deadly calm. "I don't like people fucking around with my brother, and I _really_ don't like people who fuck around with me. Especially people who can't even be honest about their intentions and try and pretend they want to be wonderful happy friends with me when really they just want to be friendly enough with me that I won't get in the way of them and Feliciano. You fucking think you're the first one to harass me over this? Now either order a fucking drink or fuck off."

An inscrutable look came over Antonio's face and he stood there silently for a few seconds, eyes locked onto Lovino's. Then he lowered them, muttered something the Italian didn't hear, and moved off without a word, rejoining the group at the table. For Lovino it was as good as an admission of guilt. The Spaniard didn't bother the Italian again for the rest of the night and by the time the bar closed he had left with the Germans and a still-sulking Feliciano without so much as a wave goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week passed by quickly, settling back into its old rhythm as neither Antonio nor his group of friends returned to the bar during Lovino's shift. Feliciano had mentioned meeting up with them once or twice in the week, while Manon had mentioned that the group had been to the bar a few times during her shift; but in both cases Lovino hadn't particularly cared enough to probe any further. For him everything had returned back to its comfortable and safe norms, where he knew how to react, where the lines were drawn, and what was what. This was how things were supposed to be. And so it that on Tuesday, almost two weeks after he'd last seen the Spaniard, he found himself down at the bar around eight in the evening. His shift had ended more than an hour earlier but he'd stayed around – as a customer – relaxing, drinking, and talking to Manon and Lars. The bar was pretty quiet tonight, with only a few people around, so he'd stayed to keep the Belgian woman and her brother company. Lars had left the bar a few minutes prior, and Manon had just moved off briefly to serve someone when in the corner of his eye Lovino saw someone sit besides him.

He didn't turn to look until a familiar voice assaulted his ears. "_Hola _Lovino."

Lovino's stomach fell and a scowl implanted itself onto his features as he spun round on the bar stool and found himself face-to-face with Antonio. He swore furiously. Why? Why tonight of all times? He'd had a good day and an enjoyable evening until this. Was the universe _that_ committed to making sure that he couldn't enjoy anything? With a deep sigh he glared at the Spaniard opposite him; Antonio seemed very much as the Italian had last seen him, complete with his usual smile plastered on his face. Lovino wasted no time making his thoughts on the other man clear. "God-dammit! What the fuck are you doing here again?"

The tanned man shrugged. "I wanted to go out tonight but the others are all busy, so I thought maybe I'd come here-"

"And harass me? Charming."

"-and talk to you." Antonio's tone turned several shades more serious. "Lovino, I was serious when I said I wanted to be friends with you. And it's not just because of Feliciano or whatever you seem to think."

"And _I_ was serious when I said I couldn't give a rat's ass." The Italian drained the rest of his drink, a slight light-headedness coming over him. He'd had a few drinks already and the alcohol was clearly just starting to kick in.

"But why not?" The Spaniard's voice wasn't particularly whiny, but there was a clear curiosity in it.

"Because I fucking said so. No means no. People don't have to be friends with you just because you decide you want them to." He pointed an accusing finger at Antonio. "What you're doing here is literally harassment and probably stalking too."

A totally confused look shot across Antonio's face. "S-s-stalking? What?"

Lovino cocked an eyebrow. "Turning up at my workplace, continually talking to me when I've made it more than clear I want nothing to do with you. Need I go on? At this rate I'm gonna have to get a restraining order."

Antonio's grin returned fast as lightning. "Oh come on, you work in a _bar_. One that I go to with friends occasionally. It's not like I'm breaking into your office or something."

Lovino was about to retort when Manon moved over. She took one look at Antonio, glanced at Lovino, and grinned before speaking, "Nice to see you again Antonio."

The Spaniard smiled back. "_Hola_ Manon, nice to see you too."

"Everything OK here?" Again Lovino was about to retort when she interrupted him, pointing down at his empty glass. "Same thing?" she asked. The Italian shut his mouth and nodded, keeping his eyes fixed away from the Spaniard besides him as Manon asked what Antonio wanted. Silence overtook the pair until Manon had served them both. She seemed about to stay and talk with them when her attention was drawn away by another customer. Lovino could have sworn in fury as she moved off and left him alone with Antonio once again with no reprieve.

The two were silent for a few seconds more before Antonio took a swill of his beer and turned to Lovino. "Why are you so sure?"

The Italian didn't look at him, opting instead to scowl down into his drink. "What?"

"That you don't want a friend. I mean, everyone likes friends."

Lovino pointed another accusing finger at the man. "And what makes _you_ so sure you want to be friends with me?" He took a gulp of his drink and continued before Antonio could answer. "Because most normal people would have gotten the hint by now."

The Spaniard stared down at his drink for a few seconds before looking up and replying. "I admit sometimes I have problems reading between the lines and all that stuff, but I'm not so oblivious that I don't notice some of the things you say, Lovino. I just-" He stopped and raised his drink, taking in a mouthful and gulping it down. "Why can't I want to be friends with you? What's wrong with that exactly?"

Lovino took another gulp as he stared down the other man, waving the glass in his direction. "Because this isn't some sappy romance book: where the love interest harasses the protagonist until he gives in out of sheer fucking stress, but gosh-fuck-it-all we _have_ to forgive him for being creepy because he's such a _nice_ and sweet guy who was only doing it all out of purest love."

"I'm not trying to harass you into being the – uh – 'love interest', Lovino. And I'm _not_ stalking you. I just think that you seem like a cool guy and I'd like for us to be friends, that's all."

"Nor is this some fucking kid's book where the poor lonely guy was just waiting for some dashing person to come along and insist on being his friend before they then sing about the power of friendship, impart a heart-warming kid-friendly message and live happily ever after as best friends."

"Lovino, you don't have to take things to extremes-"

Lovino slammed his glass down, feeling the effects of the alcohol he had had beginning to affect him quite hard. It usually took a while for the effects of intoxication to kick in, which in turn meant he often ended up drinking more than he had thought, since he'd feel fine at the time and the effects were delayed. He glared at the tanned man opposite. "What the fuck do you even know about me anyway?"

Antonio gave a small shrug, smiling in an almost apologetic way. "Well, nothing-"

"Exactly, bastard! You know fuck all, so leave me alone."

The Spaniard gave a small chuckle. "Because you refuse to even talk. You can't exactly accuse people who are trying to get to know you that they know nothing about you. I mean, it's sorta contradictory."

"Well maybe I don't want you to know anything 'bout me!" Lovino was beginning to raise his voice now, and Antonio put his hand out in what was probably meant to be a calming gesture. The Italian swatted it away. "I didn't exactly ask for you to come bothering me."

"Hey, hey, look I just-"

"We've been over this," Lovino snapped. "You wanna be friends with Feli then _fine_. I'm not gonna get in your way, but you leave _me_ the fuck alone." He picked up his glass and emptied the rest, waving it in Antonio's direction as he continued, his speech starting to slur. "You might think you're being all cutesy and shit but I'm sick of being dragged and led along by people who pretend they wanna be my friend when really it's for Feli's sakes. _So leave me the fuck alone, you god__-__damn bastard._"

Antonio was quiet for a few seconds as the Italian glared over at him, empty glass still in hand. Then he looked up, his bright green eyes meeting Lovino's hazel ones. "You're right. I don't know much about you. But I do _want_ to; and not for Feliciano's sake."

Lovino rolled his eyes, pointing yet another finger towards the man besides him. "I'm Lovino Vargas. I'm 26. I was born in Rome in Italy and moved to Austria when I was 14. I first came here because I got into university to study literature but dropped out after a year. I eventually decided to stay here and now I work as a barman in this bar. There. Now you fucking know everything about me. Care to take a hint and leave me alone?" Antonio opened his mouth to speak but only managed to get the word 'but' out before he was stopped by a scowling Lovino leaning forward, clearly trying to glare the Spaniard up-close in the eyes in an intimidating way. The Italian just had time to manage to say "No fucking buts about it-" before his free hand missed the bar counter and he fell straight forward, crashing into the Spaniard. Antonio only just managed to keep himself from toppling off the stool, holding the Italian up.

"_Dios_-" The Spaniard was cut off in his surprise by the furiously swearing Italian who was now clinging onto him with one hand in an attempt to pull himself up and still holding onto his glass with the other.

"Well, this escalated quickly. Looks like the two of you get on better than I thought," an amused voice remarked. Manon was stood across the counter, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. The reaction was almost instantaneous as Antonio pulled a still-swearing Lovino off him, trying to hide his blush. "N-no! He was just trying to hold himself up and his hand missed the counter."

"S'all your fault you god-damned Spanish bastard," Lovino managed to get out, before crossing his arms on the counter and leaning his head down onto them.

Manon laughed, plucking the glass out of his hand. "Well, I think we can guess who's being cut off for the rest of the night."

Antonio glanced over at Lovino before raising a querying eyebrow towards the Belgian woman. "Is he...usually like this?"

"Hm? When drunk? Pretty much. Well. Not quite; he's sometimes a lot more social. He even flirts with women sometimes."

"Oh." Antonio rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, staring down into his half-empty beer.

"Don't tell him shit like that," Lovino slurred in complaint, his head still resting between his arms on the bar counter.

Manon rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile. "I wouldn't normally let him drink so much, but it can be pretty hard to tell how much he's had, and Lars served him at times, so it wasn't exactly easy to keep track."

Antonio gave a small smile, raising his drink to his lips. "So I've noticed; he was pretty much OK when I got here."

"Was perfectly fine before you got here and ruined it all," the Italian interjected.

Manon patted him on the head, provoking him to try and swat her hand away. "I'm sure you were, Lovi, I'm sure you were."

Lovino pulled himself up, rising from his seat, slightly unstable. "Whatever, I'm going home."

Manon held up a hand to stop him, tugging on his shirt to pull him back. "Whoa, whoa, you're not going anywhere like that. Not on your own, at any rate."

"I'm not some fucking kid, Manon. I can walk home after dark on my own," Lovino slurred, falling back into his seat as the light-headedness got the better of him.

"Being too drunk to walk at this hour pretty much ruins any hope of you being taken maturely, Lovi."

"I was pretty much gonna head off anyway, I can walk him back." Antonio spoke up, finishing his drink at last.

Manon glanced over to him. "Could you? He doesn't live too far from here, about twenty minutes walk away. Near the Baptist church and the closed factory."

"That's in the general direction I need to go to get home anyway. I can easily take a detour and drop him off safely."

"I'm not walking with you," Lovino mumbled.

They both ignored him. "That'd be really good of you, thanks. I can't leave the place unattended until my shift ends in about four hours. And I certainly don't trust him walking back in the state he's in at the moment."

"I'm not walking with him."

The Belgian's tone turned several shades more severe. "You're not going back alone. So either you wait here for four hours until I finish work or you let him walk you back."

Lovino groaned into his hands, weighing up his choices before sighing deeply. "Fine," he muttered. He pulled himself up off the seat again, stabilising himself on the bar counter.

Manon offered Antonio an apologetic smile. "Thanks for doing this."

"It's my pleasure."

"You've got Feliciano's number if something goes horribly wrong. He lives across the city but he's got a car."

"Why have you got his number?" Lovino complained, glaring at the Spaniard with half-lidded eyes.

"Because he gave it to him," Manon interrupted.

"Why would he do that?"

"Because," she replied in an almost patronising tone, "just because _you_ don't want to be friends with him doesn't mean Feli doesn't."

"But he's a pervert, a creep!"

She held a hand out to calm him. "Lovi, I really think it's time you headed off home now."

The Italian sighed and started to move off, wobbling slightly. Antonio said goodbye to Manon and took Lovino's shoulder by the hand to stabilise the man. "Don't touch me," Lovino muttered, but he made no move to shake the Spaniard's hand off and didn't complain further. If anything, he was privately grateful for the support; though he'd be damned if he showed as much. Any show of gratitude would only encourage the persistent idiot to keep bothering him despite his best efforts to drive him away. Even drunk and half-asleep he could still realise that.

They stepped out into the cold night air without a word, Antonio guiding Lovino along. The Spaniard took a few seconds to shrug his coat on, then moved to help Lovino with his, much to the man's displeasure. Once that was done, Antonio turned to the Italian. "OK, you'll need to actually tell me where to go from here."

Lovino leant back against the wall of the building, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "I can walk back from here alone," he muttered.

"Nope. I said I was taking you back, and I am. C'mon Lovi, you can barely stand straight. There's no way I'm letting you walk back alone."

"Don't fucking call me Lovi." Lovino pushed himself up from the wall, moving forward, still light-headed. Again Antonio took his arm to keep him straight, and helped guide him forward.

"Why don't you want people calling you Lovi anyway?" Antonio asked, "It's cute."

"Ugh, back to your fucking shit about cute. I'm not cute anyway. Only Feli calls me Lovi."

The Spaniard gave a small smile. "So which is it? That you're not cute? Or that only Feliciano can call you Lovi? Because neither are true: for a start, Manon calls you Lovi."

"You fucking try to flirt with me again and I will throw you into the fucking road," the Italian muttered, keeping his head down as he watched his steps. "Manon can call me that because she's a friend. Something which you-" he stopped briefly to jab a finger at the other man before continuing, "-are not and won't be. So don't call me that."

Antonio chuckled, rubbing the nape of his neck with his free hand. "Well if you say so, Lovino."

"I do, and I mean it."

There was silence between the two for a few seconds before Antonio spoke again. "Were you this much against being friends with Manon too?"

"Wha-" Lovino trailed off, caught off-guard by the question.

"I'm just curious. You don't have to answer."

"No, but that's different."

"Hm? How so? Because you're colleagues?"

"Yeah, and she's a woman for a start."

"Oh. Yeah. Of course."

"Left here." They moved off the pavement and in doing so Lovino stumbled, almost crashing down into the road. Antonio caught him at the last moment, pulling him back with both hands. The Italian didn't try to right himself, letting himself essentially rest on the Spaniard's body as he let out a groan, starting to feel unwell.

"A-are you OK?" Antonio asked. Lovino didn't reply, simply letting his head rest on the other man's shoulder. "Are you going to puke?"

The Italian finally seemed to realise what he was doing as he pushed himself up, trying to stabilise himself. "I'm fine," he muttered, "it's passed. Let's just keep moving."

"Are you sure? We can wait until you feel better-"

"Just keep moving, idiot. I wanna get home."

With Lovino leaning on the other man, they silently continued across the road and back onto the pavement. They walked on in silence, the only noise being the occasional passing car or Lovino guiding Antonio. After another ten minutes walking they reached the foot of Lovino's apartment complex. The Italian once more tried to shoo the Spaniard away but Antonio refused to leave, insisting on walking him to his door – especially after he learnt that there was no lift and Lovino lived on the fourth floor. And so it was that after Antonio had carefully guided him up the flights of stairs they finally found themselves outside Lovino's apartment door.

Lovino pushed himself away from Antonio – leaning against the wall instead – and fished for his keys in his pocket. He glanced over at the man besides him. "You can leave now, I'm not gonna fucking lose the keys or something and spend the whole night sleeping next to the door."

Antonio grinned. "Hey, I was told to make sure you get home safely and that's what I'm doing." Lovino simply rolled his eyes, trying and failing to manoeuvre the keys into the keyhole. Antonio watched for a few seconds before moving to help. "Here, let me." He put his hand onto Lovino's and guided the key into place.

Lovino scowled over to the tanned man. "Get your hand the fuck off mine." Antonio gave an apologetic shrug and did so. With a sigh Lovino turned the key, opening the door and moving in, still leaning on the wall with one hand. He turned round once inside.

Antonio gave him a wide grin, waving him goodbye. "Take care, drink plenty of water, and get some sleep."

Lovino frowned. "I know that, you idiot. What do you think I am? Some teenager drunk for the first time?" He moved to close the door then stopped halfway. "Hey Antonio? Thanks. For helping me back. I guess."

"No problem! I'm always here to help."

"Whatever. Just, thanks. Good night." He slid the door shut and locked it, stumbling off towards his bathroom before he went to bed. Outside, Antonio stood silently for a few seconds before he moved off, a wide smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days passed by without the Spaniard coming back to the bar, which only made Lovino happy. He felt embarrassed from having been so drunk that he was only happy to let the time pass. While he could only admit – privately – that he was slowly finding the man less obnoxious than he had before, it was only in the same way that you could find one broken leg less bothersome than two. He had no big desire to embarrass himself further or be pestered any more. Three days after, on Friday, he was just preparing to leave for his shift when his phone rang. It was Feliciano.

He answered it, switching to Italian as he usually did with his younger brother. "What is it?"

Feliciano's voice rang out on the other end. "Loviii, can I ask you to do a huge favour pleeeease?"

Almost immediately a frown implanted itself onto Lovino's face. "What?"

"So, me and a few friends are going to a club tonight, and your shift ends at 1, right? So I thought maybe if I lent you my car you could pick me up! It'd be reeeally nice of you!"

Lovino began absent-mindedly drumming the fingers of his free hand on the small side-table. He had learnt to drive several years earlier, but with not enough need or money for a car, he usually just borrowed Feliciano's. "Did you seriously just call me up to ask me to be your _taxi_?" He could just imagine Feliciano on the other side, thinking up some way of convincing him, nervously shifting from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his head, the whole works.

"Well, when you put it like that, I guess yes? But really it's just convenient for both of us! Before we go I can drop the car off near the bar, and you can pick me up after you finish work. It's just a small detour for you! It'll only take you a few minutes more! Pleeeeeeease Lovi?"

Lovino rapped his fingers once more on the table and sighed deeply. "OK fine, but I'm only taking you back; not your drunk friends."

"Thank you! I'll drop the car off outside the bar! The club is that new one not far from the city centre, you know-" He degenerated into giving a full set of confusing directions until Lovino got him to simply give him the club's name and the street it was on then with a final 'thank you' he hung up and leant back against the wall, sighing again for good measure before he went on again with his day.

The evening came quickly and the bar was busy enough with the Friday night crowd to keep Lovino, Manon and even Lars busy for most of the night, and it was with a sense of relief that the place closed an hour after midnight. Lovino stayed a few minutes longer to help Manon and Lars tidy the place for the night before he collapsed into a chair, tired to the bone. Ringing punctured the silence. Snapping to full-consciousness, he brought out his phone. It was the alarm he'd set, time to go collect Feliciano. With a sigh he heaved himself up from his comfortable spot, running a hand through his hair as he shrugged on his coat, said goodbye to Manon and Lars, and went down to the car.

There had been no good free parking spots near the club, which was near the busy city centre, forcing him to end up parking on the seafront, about ten to fifteen minutes walk away. Sighing deeply, Lovino left the car with his ever-present frown on his face. He ran a hand through his hair as he got his bearings, remembering which way was to the club and took a few seconds to breathe in the sea air and listen to the waves. Eventually he turned away, moving down the streets. There was a steady trickle of people moving in the opposite direction he was going, probably more people leaving the district's many clubs and bars. As he'd thought, he was parked about ten minutes away, and combined with the time he spent tidying up the bar, it meant he'd arrived more than twenty minutes after he'd told Feliciano he would.

He quickly located the club and glanced over at the outside. Feliciano was nowhere to be seen, suggesting he was probably still inside. Lovino sighed, making his way over to the entrance. No one was at the door and no one stopped him as he walked in. There were only a few people left, most of them in the process of leaving. The place apparently closed soon. He spotted Feliciano at the back, draped over that German bastard that increasingly seemed inseparable from Lovino's brother, the two laughing merrily about something. There was no sign of any others with them. _Fuck no, I'm not giving that oversized muscle-bastard a lift in__ the__ car, _he thought, frown deepening.

"Loviiiiiiiii!" A sudden cry startled him as two arms flung themselves around his neck from behind.

"The fuck!?" He sent both his elbows out to hit whoever had just assaulted him, and felt them connect satisfyingly, followed by a winded exhalation of air as whoever it was let go of him. Lovino spun round to find himself faced with a grinning Antonio who was now holding his winded sides. "The fuck was that about!?"

The Spaniard had the decency – or maybe just enough sobriety – to look slightly embarrassed. "It seemed like a good ide-" he began, his loud and slurred voice revealing just what had made him think it was a good idea.

"Loviiiiii!" The same cry came again, this time from behind. Lovino spun round 180 again as Feliciano waved cheerily at him, moving over to join his brother and friend, Ludwig in tow. "Lovi, I really need to ask you a huuuuge favour again Luddy needs my help with something sorry for making you come here but while you're here can you drive 'Tonio back? He's on the same way back as you! He didn't drink much, he won't annoy you! You can just leave the car outside your place for the night and I'll pick it up tomorrow! Please, please, pleeeeaseLoviiiii?"

"Jesus fuck, breathe Feli! How the hell am I supposed to understand if you speak that fast!? This is why you shouldn't drink," Lovino said. He scowled up at the German besides his brother, "And you, you should know better than to let him!" The larger man – who seemed still mostly sober – seemed about to defend himself before Feliciano cut him off.

"Sorry, but this is really importaaaaant!" Feliciano said, his voice still spitting words out rapid-fire like a machine-gun. _God-fucking-dammit,_ Lovino spat mentally, _Every time he drinks he ends up like this. "This is really important, that's important, everything's importaaaaaant"._ He opened his mouth to answer, a short, sharp rebuttal already forming on his lips but he was stopped as Feliciano flung his arms around him, gave him a quick hug with an enthusiastic '_grazie, grazie, grazie!'_ and – grabbing Ludwig's hand and ignoring the German's attempt to apologise and explain the situation more fully to Lovino – left with the man in tow, ignoring Lovino's furious calls.

"Well fuck," Lovino said before sighing in quiet fury. He wanted to run after Feliciano, but he knew it would be mostly futile. It was impossible to reason with Feliciano when he was drunk, he had twice the energy and half the restraint. In that state he was always more likely to simply flee rather than confront his brother, as he had indeed just done. Lovino scowled deeply. _The fuck was the point of making me come here if he's just gonna ditch me the moment I arrive? He could have just sent a fucking text!_ He sighed again, deeper this time, heaving his shoulders in exasperation.

"Hey, hey Lovi? Lovi? Loviiii?" came a sing-song voice to the side of him. Lovino suddenly remembered that Antonio was still there. What was it Feli had asked him to do? Drive him home? _Fuck that, he can walk._ That damned Spaniard had waltzed into his life without so much as asking permission. Lovino didn't care that he was friends with Feliciano, but Antonio seemed intent on trying to be friends with Lovino too, and nothing seemed to get the obtuse idiot to take the hint that Lovino wanted nothing to do with him. "Loviiii, can I get a lift?" Antonio asked, his words slurring. Lovino sent the man a glare. Harrumphing, he said nothing, simply stepping off from the raised area where the tables were and moving towards the door. He heard Antonio move behind him. "Hey wait, Lovi, wait, wait for me." Then there was a string of curses in English and what was probably Spanish and he heard the dull thump of a body hitting the floor.

Lovino spun round. "The fuck are you-" he began, before stopping as he saw Antonio on the floor, holding his right ankle and grinning sheepishly up at the furious Italian.

"Forgot there was a step." he said.

A look of utter disbelief blanketed Lovino's face and his mouth worked furiously to try and get a coherent sentence out. "You're-you-just-goddamn it all you're so useless! A fucking danger to yourself."

"Hey I think I twisted my ankle. Can you help me up? You who's so big and strong and helpful?"

For a few seconds Lovino was tempted to go, to just storm out and leave Antonio to sort himself out. The Spaniard wasn't his problem, the fact that the idiot apparently couldn't even walk down a step without spraining something was his own cross to bear, not Lovino's. Lovino hadn't wanted to put up with him when he first met him at the bar, and even if he was now maybe a little less venomous to the man, he still didn't want to deal with his antics now. But he supposed he owed it to the man after he'd helped Lovino home; nor did he want to deal with Feliciano's inevitable whining of 'Lovi you're so mean to leave poor Antonio behind when he hurt his ankle and I asked you to drive him home and wah wah wah'. Lovino sighed, hands rubbing his eyes for a few seconds. Yeah, this was just a settling of debts. Antonio had helped Lovino home, Lovino would now help him home, and the two could go along their merry ways, neither owing the other anything. _The sacrifices I make just for a bit of peace_, he thought, frowning as he moved over to Antonio. The Spaniard held an unsteady hand out, grinning like he usually did.

"How much have you even had to drink?" Lovino asked, taking Antonio's hand and pulling him up.

Antonio chuckled. "Not that much," he said, "you'd know if I had _too_ much. Thanks for being concerned for me though!"

Lovino scowled. "Goddammit, I wasn't concerned for you, you useless bastard. Who would be?" He hauled the giggling Antonio up half onto his shoulders, trying to take the pressure off Antonio's sprained foot, "Like I haven't got better things to do than nurse you like a fucking kid." The Spaniard's laugh got louder at this and Lovino felt Antonio's head lean down to Lovino's left shoulder,

"Usually _I_ have to look after _you,_" Antonio said, his voice slurred and his breath tickling the Italian's ear.

Lovino scoffed, his scowl deepening yet further. "Fuck you! That was _one_ time! I don't need _anyone_ to look after me. Especially not _you_." He took a hesitant step. He wasn't the strongest of guys, and Antonio was heavier than him. It certainly didn't help that Antonio seemed to be making no effort to hold himself up, and seemed quite content with draping himself on Lovino's shoulder. This was only going to end one way. "And stop breathing on me, your breath stinks," he added as he smelled the alcohol in Antonio's breath, swatting the older man's face back. Antonio only chuckled again, resting his face in Lovino's hair.

He took a deep breath. "Mmm, your hair smells nice, Lovi-" The Spaniard suddenly slipped back as Lovino let go of him, sending him crashing onto the floor.

"You're too heavy, you idiot. You're gonna have to haul your useless ass and help me."

"But Loviiii, my foot's in agony! Can't you carry me in your _big, strong, manly_ arms?" A wide grin spread onto Antonio's face as he sat up.

"Fuck off, don't call me Lovi, stand up, keep the pressure off your foot and balance yourself on my shoulder. Jesus, what are you? Five? You should know this," Lovino said as he took the older man by the shoulder and pulled him up as gently as he could in his irritated state. He'd only come to pick Feliciano up, not waste his entire evening trying to help this drunk Spanish bastard get home. _Fucking Feli, leaving me with this idiot. __Hmph, I bet__i__t's that German bastard's fault,_ he raged as Antonio, still grinning like an idiot, finally stood straight, his bad foot resting lightly off the ground and his hand holding Lovino's shoulder for balance. "You good? Finally. Let's move," the Italian said, moving towards the door as Antonio hobbled on besides him, hand resting on his shoulder. The two made their way to the door in silence, with only the sound of their breathing and of the streets outside the club breaking the stillness. Lovino opened the door none-too-gently and guided the Spaniard out.

The night air was cool as they stepped out. The street was still fairly busy, with people moving up and down the other businesses along the area. Lovino stopped as his phone buzzed. He flipped it open, showing a text from Feliciano;

_ **spending the night at luddys, hope you dont mind!**_

_Luddy? _he scowled at the stupid nickname alone and sighed, blowing air out through his clenched teeth. _Of course, no surprise there,_ he spat mentally as he put the phone away. He didn't even want to know what the two were up to, though he could only imagine that oversized German bastard was no doubt corrupting his naïve brother. It probably didn't that the two knew German, as indeed did Lovino, growing up partly in Austria, but there was certainly no way he would speak it to that hulking idiot. Sure Ludwig and Feliciano could just be friends, but years of experience had taught Lovino to expect the worst. Next time he wasn't going to let Feliciano get out of this so easily. He was wrenched from his thoughts by a voice near his ear.

"Who was it?" came Antonio's slurred voice.

"None of your business, nosy bastard" Lovino replied, his scowl returning as he put his phone back into his pocket. He was aware that he was probably being overly-defensive, but after the stunt Feliciano had pulled – leaving him with this sorry excuse for a Spaniard – he wasn't feeling particularly friendly. Especially after Feliciano had promised that Lovino would only have to drive him back.

Antonio though simply kept grinning like an idiot. "Aww, you're so cuuute with that pout," he said before giggling.

Lovino's hand shot out, delivering a sharp rebuke in the form of a slap to the back of the older man's head while the Italian turned his face away as he felt the slightest blush creep onto his cheeks. "Sh-shut up! I swear, next time I'm leaving you behind. You're worse than Feli when drunk," he managed to say. _The fuck is with this guy, seriously? _he thought, exhaling loudly in exasperation. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Antonio's flirtatious personality at the best of times; having to deal with it when he was already irritated that Feliciano had ditched him and when Antonio was drunk only made things even worse.

Antonio rubbed the back of his head. "Loviiii, you're so mean," the Spaniard said, still smiling good-naturedly as though Lovino had just made a sarcastic joke or something. Sending him a glare, Lovino said nothing, simply continuing to guide Antonio forward. The car was still ten or fifteen minutes away from here, on the waterfront. _Great. Fifteen minutes __of__ having to help this idiot like a fucking guide dog._

They walked in silence for several minutes, Lovino frowning deeply, Antonio leaning on his shoulder, limping along. Eventually they came to the seafront. Like he had when he'd left the car to go to the club, Lovino stopped, breathing in deeply. He loved the smell of the sea and the sound the waves made, breaking against the rocks. They'd lived by the sea, he and Feliciano, back when they'd lived in Italy with their grandfather. Every night Lovino would fall asleep to the sound of the waves. That sound had been something he'd missed hugely after he and Feliciano had gone to live with Roderich and Elizabeta in Austria. He still often went down to the sea when he'd had a particularly shitty day.

"Hey," a quiet voice said near his ear. Lovino had briefly forgotten about Antonio, so lost in his thoughts. "Hey," Antonio repeated, "Lovi? Lovino, you look sad. You're not even pouting any more. Please don't be sad." He felt Antonio's arms wrap around him, drawing the smaller Italian into a hug. "I don't want you to be sad."

For a few seconds Lovino stood there, his body against Antonio's. He could feel the warmth of the Spaniard's body through the thin shirt he wore, and Lovino felt...comfortable surrounded by those arms. Then his mind slammed back into reality. A furious scowl immediately jumping onto his face, he sent his arms coursing up, slamming into Antonio's chest and pushing him back, almost causing the man to fall over.

"The-the fuck!" he spat, sending the other man a murderous look as he felt a blush cover his face that he could only hope wasn't noticeable in the dark. "That's twice you've done that tonight! Me being distracted doesn't give you the right to fucking grope me!"

Antonio's face looked the perfect mixture of confused and bashful. "G-groping? I just wanted to cheer you up!" he said, words slurring.

"Cheering me up isn't invading my personal space! And I don't need cheering up, anyway!"

"You looked sad though!" Antonio protested. "You weren't even frowning in that way you-"

"I was just thinking about what a pain you are! You didn't need to go and prove it."

Antonio held his hands up in defeat, but he had a slight smile on his lips. "Ok, ok, Lovi, I'm sorry! Please forgive me? Pleeeeeeeease? Pleeeeee-"

"Just move. No, on your own! Your foot should be fine now." _And if it isn't I couldn't care less, _Lovino added silently.

"Awww, but I like leaning on yo-"

"One more word and you can _walk_ back. I'm only doing this for Feli, after all."

Antonio opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it. With a smile, he did an over-exaggerated motion of zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Lovino rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his coat and walking on, Antonio behind him. They walked the last five minutes to the car in silence, or rather, Lovino did, while Antonio loudly hummed some unrecognisable tune. Without a word Lovino fished the keys out and opened the car. Then he shepherded Antonio into the passenger seat before getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine.

"Seatbelt," he said, fastening his own as Antonio slouched down in the passenger seat.

The still-tipsy Spaniard spent a few seconds reaching behind him groping around for the belt before he put on an exaggerated pout. "Loviii, I can't find it."

Lovino growled, clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "Fuck, just how fucking useless can you be!?" he snapped at the offending passenger. He undid his own seatbelt, then reached over, one hand supporting himself on the closed door, the other taking the seatbelt Antonio had somehow managed to miss. _He's doing it on purpose, I swear!_ "There, see? Just. Right. Fucking. There. Not hard to miss. Have you recovered from your bout of blindness or would you maybe like me to buckle it for you too?"

He felt Antonio's breath tickle his ear again as the Spaniard moved his head forward until his mouth was level with Lovino's ear. "Didn't think you'd be into tying me up," he said, drunkenly flashing Lovino another one of his endless grins. The smile was soon wiped off as Lovino sent his head sideways into Antonio's face. Antonio gave a yelp of surprise as the side of the Italian's head slammed into his face, hands jumping up to clutch his nose. "Lovi," he whined, voice slightly nasal. He put on another exaggerated pout. "You're so mean!"

"You're repeating yourself, doucheass," Lovino said shortly, looking out the driver-side window to hide the traitorous blush that had again crept onto his face. He didn't usually blush like this at everything. What was up with him? He felt a twinge of guilt at having hurt Antonio and he hoped he hadn't hit too hard. This thought in itself made him frown further. _He deserved it, the __perverted__ ass. Saying shit like that._ "Nose not bleeding?" he asked. Antonio shook his head, letting go of his nose. "Good, now buckle up and tell me where I'm supposed to drop you off." He started the engine, fastening his own seatbelt as Antonio managed to find enough hand-eye coordination to secure his and tell the Italian his address.

They were both silent as Lovino guided the car through the mostly-empty streets. Antonio was slouched down in his seat, his eyes closed, while Lovino kept his own eyes fixed on the road before him. With the little traffic that there was, it only took fifteen or so minutes for the car to find itself grounding to a halt in the parking of the apartment complex. Antonio didn't move, eyes still closed, head resting on the window.

"We're here," Lovino said, his scowl – never far away – returning. The Spaniard didn't respond. "Oi! We're here! Jesus Christ, I swear, if you've fallen asleep," Lovino growled, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over to wake up the sleeping man, one hand leaning on the car door to stabilize himself.

Antonio stirred, one hand groping for the door handle. "Ok, ok, 'm moving," he mumbled, blinking sleepily. His hand found the handle, jerking the door open and leaving empty space where Lovino's hand had been resting. The Italian swore, collapsing down from where he had been leaning over Antonio to find himself strewn across the Spaniard's lap. It took Antonio a few seconds to clear the cloud of sleep and realize what he'd done.

As it dawned on him, a grin grew on his face. "Awww, Lovi. Just a goodnight kiss would be fine, though if you really want we can go up to my apartment," he said, laughing and ignoring the murderous look Lovino was sending him.

"Sh-shut the fuck up you perverted bastard!" Lovino spat, restraining himself from hitting the Spaniard a third time tonight and picking himself up, "You do this on purpose, I swear! This only happens around you!"

Antonio grinned at him, getting out the car. He took a few steps, before turning round to face the car again. "Then I'm honoured," he said, voice still slightly slurred but clearly beginning to sober up slightly. Lovino flipped him the bird, still glowering furiously as he started the car again. Antonio simply laughed. "Thanks for the ride Lovi!" The Italian didn't respond, instead opting to reach over and slam the passenger-side door shut. With Antonio waving him off, he drove out of the parking.


	5. Chapter 5

It was over a week before Lovino saw the Spaniard again, not that he particularly minded. The Italian still found himself bothered from the teasing the drunk man had given him when Lovino had taken him home. The damn guy had a way of worming his way into Lovino's head, and that only made Lovino more irritable when it came to him. Presently the irate Italian was taking the late-night shift, preparing to close up in fifteen minutes. It was then that Antonio came in. Lovino saw him across the bar and gave a deep sigh to himself as a slight scowl found its way onto his face. He was tired, had a headache, and was not in the slightest in the mood to put up with the man's quirks.

The Spaniard sat down on the stool opposite Lovino as the Italian leant his elbows on the counter, giving him his usual frown. "We're not serving any more, closing in fifteen minutes," he informed him shortly.

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "Huh? But I thought you closed at one."

"Yeah, on Fridays; rest of the days we close at midnight."

A small frown found its way on the Spaniard's face before he gave a shrug. "Oh well." He flashed Lovino a winning grin. "I can keep you company instead!"

Lovino sighed, resting his head in one hand as he rolled his eyes. "Riiight, because I've made it so perfectly clear how much I _love_ your company."

A small chuckle from the other man. "Well you've got it whether you want it or not, I think I've made that clear at least."

"And don't I hate you for it. Shouldn't you be heading back, anyway? No point being at a bar if you're not going to drink. I'm sure you've got better things to do than lurk around here harassing me."

"Nope, it's perfectly fine. I don't have work tomorrow, so I can sleep in, anyway," Antonio explained, before continuing on as though Lovino had asked, "I work in a shop you see, it's closed on Sundays."

"Well I'm sure you can harass some other place with your friends rather than pester me."

Antonio shrugged. "Gilbert's out of town with Francis and Ludwig is-"

"-hanging out with Feliciano," Lovino finished, scowling down at the counter. He'd noticed that his brother seemed to be spending a lot of time with the German, and even when he's come to the bar this week he had been accompanied by the large man. Lovino hadn't particularly liked Ludwig to start with, but now that the man seemed to be cutting into the little time Lovino spent with his brother and taking up most of Feliciano's free time, Lovino was beginning to like him less and less by the day. It didn't help that Ludwig seemed to have decided to take the high-road against Lovino's insults. Even when he was at his most irritable, the Italian liked at least to get a reaction from people; it proved at least that he'd been heard and understood. Even Antonio, who mostly only reacted by laughing, smiling, or redoubling his efforts, reacted better than the German who would only nod, shake his head or calmly deny whatever particular insinuation Lovino had accused him of. The only time Lovino got any satisfactory reaction was when he insinuated about things between the German and Feliciano, at which point the flustered man would deny everything. It was funny to a point, but in the end it only reminded Lovino that Ludwig was spending a lot of time with Feliciano, and now cutting into the precious time Lovino had with his brother. The only other times he was anything but mostly calm was when Feliciano was completely drunk, at which point the German man would usually try to keep the energetic Italian out of trouble – and fail more often than not. He'd even seen him get irritable with Feli once.

A nod from Antonio. "Yeah, you should see-" he trailed off as his eyes turned to something past Lovino.

At the same time, a voice came from the side. "Lovino, time to shift these drunks and-" That voice likewise trailed off as Lovino turned his head to see the bar's owner, Lars. The tall Dutchman was staring at Antonio, a none-too-impressed look on his usually dispassionate face. For several seconds there was complete silence between the three.

Antonio spoke first. "Lars," he said coolly. It was the closest Lovino had heard to actual dislike or even irritation in the Spaniard's voice. He hadn't particularly thought the man was capable of it.

"Antonio," the Dutchman replied, "didn't expect _you _here."

"Well I didn't know that _you _were the Lars whoworks here."

"This is my bar. I'm the owner."

"Congratulations."

"Not harassing my employee I hope?" Lovino had been tempted to retort a 'yes', but decided against it: he might find the Spaniard irritating but he knew better than stoking the situation any further and risking setting off anything more serious than a few stern words.

There was a small humourless chuckle. "I don't think you're the best person to be asking about hara-"

"We're closing, by the way," Lars interrupted, "so if I could kindly ask you to leave. And I'm sure there's other bars you can hang around at, ones that aren't here." He stared at the Spaniard coldly, and Lovino heard him mutter something in Dutch under his breath before the man moved off to shift the rest of the few remaining customers. Antonio stared down at the counter, a frown on his face as he ran a hand through his hair.

Lovino waited a few seconds, and when the man said nothing, he stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "Well?" he asked.

Antonio looked up, frown shifting off into a more neutral expression. "Huh?"

"Well? What was _that_ about?"

"Oh," Antonio's hand shot up to rub at the back of his neck and he avoided Lovino's glare, "it's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Seriously? You expect me to brush that off? Lars snaps at me if _I'm_ too short with customers and you expect me to ignore him being short and rude with one?"

A small smile found its way on Antonio's face. "Hey, you're short and rude with me all the time."

"You're an exception. Now answer."

"It's nothing," Antonio repeated.

Lovino leant forward on the counter, glaring at the man opposite. "Nothing doesn't make Lars suggest a customer stays out. What was it? A no-doubt thrilling tale of backstabbing and woe?"

"What's it to you anyway? It's private business." Antonio's tone was defensive now, to the Italian's surprise. The tanned man was usually pretty breezy and carefree; it was Lovino's job to be defensive. To hear Antonio now so reluctant to speak was a complete about face from his usual attitude. What was it to him anyway? That was a good question; why _did_ Lovino even care? Whatever history Lars and Antonio had together was not his concern. He wanted as little of Antonio in his life as possible, he reminded himself. Hell, if Lars could convince the man the stay away from the bar and thus leave Lovino alone that could only be a winning situation, couldn't it?

"Fine, keep your secrets, I don't care," the Italian muttered, pushing himself up from the counter and moving off to help Lars clear the bar.

The few people left were easily shifted, either stumbling out or – in one case – being carried out by friends. Once the people were gone, Lovino glanced over to Antonio only to see that at some point in the few minutes Lovino had left him the Spaniard had gone. Shrugging to himself he moved to help Lars clear the tables and put the stools up, removing the rest of the glasses and bottles and other mess the customers had left. They worked pretty fast at two, and within five or ten minutes the place was mostly clear. Lovino had bid the Dutchman a good night and shrugged on his jacket when – to his surprise – Lars stopped him.

The Dutchman had a small frown on his face rather than his usual impassive and neutral expression. "Lovino," he said, his tone serious, "if Antonio bothers you any more, tell me and I'll get rid of him."

A small sting of wounded pride rose up in Lovino. "I'm perfectly capable of getting rid of him myself, jeez."

Lars shrugged. "Whatever, just don't bother with him, he's no good. I'm serious."

A scowl jumped onto Lovino's face. "_What?_ There's nothing between us, jeez. Do you always assume that me talking to a customer means we're together?"

The slightest of smiles rose on Lars' features. "Considering how much you go out of your way to avoid talking to customers more than you have to: yes, I do." Lovino rolled his eyes at this, turning round to leave again. Lars didn't stop him this time.

The Italian moved out into the cold night air, letting out a deep sigh. He let loose a second one as he saw who was leaning on the wall of the building: Antonio was there, a lit cigarette in his mouth and a frown on his face. When he saw Lovino he gave a grin and a small wave.

"You weren't seriously waiting for me were you?" Lovino asked, his tone clearly not impressed.

The Spaniard gave an evasive shrug, smiling. "I was just taking a break before heading home."

"Those things'll rot your lungs, you know."

A small chuckle. "I know. I don't smoke much, just every so often – mostly when I'm stressed or the like. I used to be a lot worse."

Lovino began to move along, and the Spaniard moved up to walk besides him; Lovino didn't stop him. "What? Stressed after your little confrontation with Lars?"

Antonio's frown returned; in one evening Lovino could swear he had seen him frown more times than in all their previous encounters. The man gave a pained sigh, blowing out a small cloud of smoke into the night air. He said nothing for a few seconds before finally speaking, voice dispassionate. "Lars and I dated, maybe a year or so ago? We weren't together for long and we broke up pretty nastily, hence our 'little confrontation'."

Something small and unexpected churned up from the bottom of Lovino's stomach as he processed what Antonio had just said. He squelched it; what was he even getting worked up about? Instead he raised an eyebrow at the man besides him. "What? Suddenly you're spilling out the entire story? After being all 'what's it to you' back there?"

Antonio grinned over to the Italian. "Well, honesty is the best policy. It's not like Lars probably won't bitch about me now he knows I go there."

Lovino blew air out through his teeth incredulously. "Whatever. Whatever issues you have with Lars I don't care."

The Spaniard looked affronted. "I don't have _issues. _It was over a year ago! It's him that can't let go."

"As far as I can tell, you were both rude to each other."

Antonio raised a hand defensively. "I was rude in response to him being rude first."

"'He started it'? That's your defence, seriously? You're starting to sound like a kid trying to worm out of being punished now."

A grin spread over the other man's face. "What, now you're gonna punish me?"

"You start that shit again and you can walk alone."

"Aww, I was just joking."

"Then get a joke that's actually funny. Being creepy isn't funny, it's creepy." Lovino could have sworn he saw the Spaniard roll his eyes in the dim light of the street lamps.

Antonio dropped the cigarette stub, crushing it underfoot. "Well, either way, it's in the past, even if Lars wants to make a big deal out of it."

"What did you even break up over for it to be such a deal a year later?"

The Italian got a sly, sideways grin from the Spaniard for that. "Aren't you the guy who constantly berates me for being tactless and not 'reading the atmosphere'?"

Lovino scowled. "Hey, I'm just asking from curiosity, bastard!"

That only widened the other man's grin further. "Bit of a probing question, especially for someone who keeps insisting he wants nothing to do with me."

Lovino sighed in frustration. "Whatever. Don't answer, I don't really care."

"I'm afraid I could only answer to a friend." The tanned man's smile was sly. Lovino was not impressed.

"If this is some weird way to get me to be friends with you it's not working, idiot."

"Aw c'mon, why are you so intent on not making friends? Feli-"

A furious scowl set itself on Lovino's features and he cut the man off mid-word. "What the fuck are you blabbering about?" He stopped to stare at the other man, breath rising in front of him as he narrowed his eyes.

Antonio raised his hands in a pre-emptive calming gesture, clearly realising where this was going. "Well it's just-"

"I know what you were trying to say," Lovino snapped. "What? Was it going to be another 'Feliciano doesn't do this so why do you' or maybe a 'why can't you be more like Feli'?"

"No! I wasn't trying to compare you, it's just Feli said-"

His attempts to defuse the situation came too late: Lovino was already in full anger mode, scowling, taking his hands out of his pockets to point accusingly, and devolving into little more than an angry rant as the stress of the past week or so boiled up inside him. "Or has Feliciano been mouthing off with his favourite pet theories about how clearly I'm an unlikeable douchebag because of massive childhood trauma or whatever? Did he give his entire shitty little thesis on the subject; including how clearly I was just so darn jealous of him because he was the family favourite? Have you just maybe considered that I don't want to be friends with someone who doesn't know when to shut up?" Lovino was mouthing off now, feeling pretty enraged with both Feliciano for talking about him behind his back and Antonio for trying to corner him with whatever Lovino's brother had told him.

The Spaniard looked completely apologetic now, hands raised, features sorry. "I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to compare you to Feliciano. He just mentioned something once; he wasn't talking badly about you, I swear! He just mentioned that you didn't get on with your granddad."

"What?" Lovino stared dumbfounded at the man for a few seconds as he took in what Antonio had said, apparently shocked into silence before he began again. "Seriously!? And what? You thought you'd go down the Freud route and suggest that's the root of whatever problems you seem to insist I have? Do you want to know about my non-existent relationship with my fucking mother too?"

"I-"

"What the fuck made you even think it was a good idea to start whining to someone about how terrible they are?! Jesus fuck you're such a social calamity it's a miracle you don't get fucking punched every time you open your mouth. Wha-"

"Goddammit Lovino," Antonio snapped, cutting Lovino off mid-word in his turn. "I didn't mean anything by it! I wasn't trying to be mean – I just wanted to know, it was rude, sure, and I'm sorry. Feli just mentioned it once and I was tactless – y'know, like you accuse me of being all the time?" He sounded...irritated now. That in itself stunned the Italian into silence. He didn't think he had seen the other man ever get annoyed or irritated with him. Yet on reflection for all he knew Antonio _had_ gotten irritated with Lovino's rebuffs, and just kept it to himself, persevering nonetheless. He supposed that he had seen the man act so oblivious to Lovino's harsh rebukes that the idea that maybe Antonio had not been so clueless, that he just didn't react outwardly, had not occurred to him. The idea of Antonio angry or annoyed at him bothered Lovino – at least when people vocalised and made clear their anger with him he could convince himself that it was just his usual personality displaying its complete lack-of-charm that had led to him having so few friends in the first place. The thought of Antonio keeping that irritation inside for whatever reason though just bothered him and left him off-footed, and that in turn only bothered him more. What did he care what the guy thought? He couldn't possibly be warming up to the Spaniard? The sheer idea was ridiculous. It was only that Lovino was getting used to the annoyance, surely? It was more a case of not wasting his time, no? And yet here he was, feeling pretty stupid and slightly guilty at having overreacted so angrily for what had been an innocent – if tactless – query. That didn't happen often.

He sighed deeply, shoving his hands into his pockets and starting to walk again. "OK, fine, whatever. Let's just go, I'm cold and tired and want to get home sooner rather than later," he said, his voice dispassionate.

The Spaniard hung back for a few seconds, and Lovino thought he was angry enough that he wouldn't walk with the Italian any more – and that bothered him more than it should. Finally though Antonio moved to walk besides Lovino once more, his face apologetic again. "I'm sorry I snapped."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Fuck, stop apologising for everything. What are you, a kid?"

"It never hurts to apologise." Lovino couldn't help but feel that was directed at him and said nothing, frowning and keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

They walked in silence for several minutes more, the only sound an occasional passing car. Eventually they came to a crossroads and Antonio turned to Lovino. "So, uh, good night?" he said, holding out his hand.

Lovino stared at him for a few seconds, hesitating, before finally shortly shaking his hand. "Yeah, sure, whatever, good night." Antonio grinned at this, giving the Italian a final wave before putting his hands back into his pockets and turning round, walking down the road. Lovino stared after him for a few seconds, before shaking his head and stuffing his own hands back into his jacket, turning to continue home.


	6. Chapter 6

The phone rang and a scowling Lovino untangled himself from his sheets and grabbed it, checking the time: 10:27. Since he usually worked the night-shifts he tended to sleep in late. He looked to see who was calling: Feliciano. His brother occasionally called Lovino to talk, but usually he'd only call in the afternoon. With a sigh the slowly-waking man accepted the call and brought the phone up to his ear, rubbing his eyes clear with his free hand.

"Hey Lovi!" Feliciano's bright and chirpy voice assaulted his ear from the other line, speaking their native Italian. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"Oh you know, just my sleep. I mean, god dammit Feli, you know full well I don't get up for another half-hour at least, we've been over this."

"But then half the day will be gone!"

"And I usually work half the night so it's fine. God dammit, I'm tired of explaining it, I don't need a lecture."

"Sorry! I didn't want to leave it too late though and I-"

Lovino interrupted him there, sensing that his brother was probably on the cusp of devolving into another tangent and wasting both their time. "Leave what late?"

"Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to come for dinner this evening! Normally you don't work in the evenings today right? So it should be fine. Please?" Lovino mulled it over in his mind, saying nothing for a few seconds. He knew he was probably going to accept; he was always secretly pleased when Feliciano invited him over for dinner, as he did once or twice a month or so, it showed that while the brothers might have drifted apart since their childhood, especially in their social lives, they remained family.

That said he didn't want to appear eager or anything so he left the line silent for a few moments before replying. "OK fine, what time?"

"Is six OK? I'll drive you back if you want."

"Fine, but I'll take the bus there and back, it's no problem. Do I need to bring anything?"

"No, it's all alright!" There was a pause. "Uh, also..."

"What?"

"No, nothing! I'll see you then, then!"

"Yeah, sure, now let me sleep, bye."

"Bye!" And with that Lovino hung up the phone, replacing it by his bedside and collapsing back into bed, sighing. Since it was Sunday he had no work today, and could probably sleep well into the afternoon if he wanted. That said he hated doing that, it messed up his entire sense of time and despite what he'd told Feliciano, it left him feeling he'd wasted the entire day. He looked over to the clock again: 10:33. His alarm would go off in less than a half-hour, and there was no way he'd fall asleep again in that time. Groaning, he pulled the sheets off of him and pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his trousers off his chair and pulling them on before leaving the room to make breakfast.

What was left of the morning passed quickly as Lovino had his usual coffee and breakfast before settling himself on his couch and reading for an hour or so. The afternoon likewise passed quickly and before long Lovino shrugged on his jacket and headed for the door. Feliciano lived on the other side of the city, more than an hour's walk away. His apartment was in a nicer neighbourhood: it paid to have a fancy art job rather than just being a bartender. While Lovino tended to walk to most places – shops, work, etc – he was not prepared to spend an hour trudging in the autumn cold, and so one bus ride later he found himself at the foot of Feliciano's apartment building. Feliciano must have seen him coming as a short elevator ride to the third floor and he was promptly pulled into a hug by his grinning brother.

Lovino let a small but sincere smile creep onto his face as he gave Feliciano a small pat on the back. "Yeah, yeah. Happy to see you too. Let's not make some big scene," he muttered, slipping into their native Italian.

Feliciano let go of him, still grinning like a maniac. "Well then, come in, come in. How's everything at work? I saw Manon just the other day at the city centre and-" He started babbling as he ever did. Feliciano had a knack for conversation, he could always think of a conversation piece, or talk for ages without boring people, even if he just babbled as he was doing now. Lovino mostly hated small talk; he quite frankly did not care to spend time talking about about how the weather was not the same as yesterday's, or how some man's hat had flown away when you were shopping. Conversation for conversation's sake usually bored him unless it was genuinely interesting or funny. He stepped into the apartment as Feliciano continued to talk excitedly about his and Manon's meeting, only half-listening. The small entry hallway was its usual clean self, but he knew from long experience that only the corridor and the living room were this tidy, for polite show and convenience. The rest of the place would be strewn all over with random things his brother hadn't bothered to tidy away: books or magazines he'd been reading, clothes he'd just abandoned on the floor or on chairs, and sometimes even art supplies from where he'd left his work room with a tube of paint or the like and just put it down somewhere while doing something else and leaving it there.

Feliciano was wrapping up his little story about his visit to the city centre as Lovino followed him to the kitchen, two pots were bubbling on the stove and he could hear the hum of the oven, cooking a log-like piece of meat.

He leant back against the counter. "Need any help?"

Feliciano shook his head, pulling two wine-glasses from a cupboard and setting them onto the counter. "It's all fine, it's rice, meatloaf, and potatoes. That's all good right?" He took a bottle of red wine from beneath the counter, opening it and pouring it into the glasses, offering one to Lovino.

Lovino took it and shrugged. "Yeah, sure, that's all fine." He took a sip of the wine, letting it rest on his tongue before swallowing. "A bit much just for two though." He grinned. "It's usually just pasta."

Feliciano leant against the wall, looking over at Lovino opposite him. "Yeah..." He drifted off before taking a sip of wine and continuing. "About that. I was going to tell you before but Ludwig is coming over too. Antonio too."

A scowl jumped onto Lovino's face. "What."

Feliciano bit his lip, not meeting Lovino's glare. "I was gonna tell you on the phone, but..."

"But?"

"But if I had, you'd have refused to come!"

"Damn right! As if I'd want to spend time with Mr. Muscle and Mr. Clueless." That bastard harassed him at work and now was going to follow him into his private time with his brother?

"You think I enjoy having to lie to my brother just to get him to meet new people? You'd like them if you just spent more time with them! And I mean _actually_ spending time with them, not hurling insults and looking for excuses to leave!"

"Excuse me? Who I'm friends with is my own fucking concern. I don't need you acting like some little social guru trying to force me into making friends with people I can't stand!" Lovino's face was red now; Feliciano's neutral, he'd obviously been expecting this reaction. That didn't make Lovino any calmer.

"That's not true! I've seen you and Antonio, you definitely like him more than you pretend, and you'd probably like their friends too, if you gave them a chance!"

"I don't need you to act like my personal shrink god-fucking-dammit! Why don't you just invite the whole gang then while you're at it? You pretty much only babble about the four of them anyway." His hand was shaking with rage now, some wine splashing up the sides of the glass onto it.

"Gilbert and Francis? They're both out of town, Francis is visiting an old friend and Gilbert's out to- hey! Don't change the subject!" Feli's eyes finally met Lovino's, more defiant this time. "I'm not trying to act like your 'personal shrink'. I just want you to get to know my friends better – if you like them, great! If not, fine! At least you would have tried! That's your problem, you never even try, you just write people off before you've even met them! Or you just take an initial impression then ignore anything else! It's not always some big evil conspiracy with everyone out to get you!" Feliciano was beginning to get worked up now. "I mean c'mon Lovi, just about every friend you've had is someone you started off constantly claiming you couldn't stand."

Lovino leant against the counter in total silence, scowling into his glass, swirling the wine round. Across from him Feliciano was biting his lip, clearly worried he'd gone too far and offended his brother even worse. "Whatever," Lovino said at last. "I'm already here and the food's already ready." He had a feeling he'd be regretting his decision. He'd be better served finishing his glass and leaving now.

An easy smile leapt back onto Feliciano's face. "Great! I'm serious, just give them a proper chance. I mean, if you don't try to get to know them how can you ever know if you'd be friends or not?" Lovino simply grunted, face still furious, eyes still fixed on his drink.

An uneasy silence enveloped the two as they stood there, emotions calming, sipping at their wine without a word. Apparently reassured Lovino wasn't going to storm off any moment now, after two minutes or so Feliciano pushed himself off the wall and moved off to the cooker, checking on the food. Lovino watched him for a while, emptying his glass just as he heard a knock.

Feliciano didn't look round from where he was carefully taking the meatloaf out of the oven. "That's probably them. Can you go get it?" Lovino didn't move. "Pleeease Lovi?" With a deep sigh Lovino pushed himself off the counter, turning round out of the kitchen towards the door. He hesitated once at the door, hand hovering over the lock. The knock came again, strong against the wood. He sighed once again for good measure and opened the door.

He was greeted by Ludwig's impassive face; the German didn't seem too surprised to see the Italian there, no doubt Feliciano had warned in advance that Lovino might be present. A scowl flashed across Lovino's features as he thought of that – being warned about like some hazard or pest – before he forced a more neutral expression onto his face.

Ludwig gave what he was sure was a forced smile, holding his hand out politely. "Ah, uh, good evening Lovino. I hope everything is good?"

"Could be better," the Italian ground out, ignoring the proffered hand and moving back from the doorway to let the larger man in.

"Come on through Luddy, I'm just finishing the food!" Feliciano called from the kitchen.

"_Luddy_, pfff..." Lovino muttered under his breath, half-chuckling half-mocking. He'd already heard the nickname from Feliciano but embarrassing the man in person felt much better. Indeed, he felt a pang of delight at seeing a small red flush fill Ludwig's face before the German moved off in direction of the kitchen, muttering a small thanks to Lovino. The Italian closed the door and leant against it, rolling his eyes as he listened to Feliciano and Ludwig greet each other. He did not like how close the two were getting: even to the point of having nicknames. What was next, pet names? Or was 'Luddy' already a pet name? He spent at least a few minutes slouched in the hall, unwilling to go and find himself playing the third wheel to the pair, or worse, end up having the two try to strike up a forced conversation to include him. Yet another sigh escaped his lips as he crossed his arms, trying to drown out the inane prattle coming from the kitchen. He clenched his fist. This was supposed to be his and Feliciano's time. He already had to put up with the German and his friends when they turned up with Feli at the bar, why did he have to now put up with them here, in the last refuge of what family time he and Feliciano had?

Another knock on the door jarred him out of his thoughts. He didn't move for a few seconds and the knock rung again. Feli's voice sounded from the other room. "Lovi, can you-"

"I'm on it," Lovino snapped, pushing himself off the door and turning round to face it. Once more he hesitated before opening it. He knew who'd be on the other side and he wasn't sure he wanted to see him. A few more seconds passed before he finally swung the door open.

Antonio stood on the other side, his perpetual grin on his face. He didn't waste a second, holding his hand out. "_¡__Hola_ Lovino! How's things?"

Lovino sighed, giving the man an unenthusiastic handshake and went for the same neutral response he'd given Ludwig. "Could be better." He moved out the way, letting the Spaniard in.

"Work all good?"

"You were there just yesterday. I don't work Sundays, hence why I'm here, so yes, work has been exactly the same since you last saw me at it."

Antonio simply chuckled at this, smile never faltering, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, sorry. I was just going for the polite thing to say."

"Which is now completely meaningless since it's clear you're just going by rote and didn't even think about it and so probably didn't really give much of a fuck."

Antonio raised his hands defensively, his smile finally dropping into a more flustered expression. "Whoa now. I do, 'give a fuck'. It's just these things are on autorun is all!" Lovino said nothing to that, knowing perfectly well that he was jumping on anything he could. Overly aggressive maybe, but definitely stress relieving. Without another word the Italian simply crossed his arms and stalked back to the other room. Feliciano and Ludwig were still talking about some inane thing or another as they began moving the food off to the table.

"Glad you could make it Antonio! Please sit down guys, we'll eat soon, don't want it to get cold!" Feliciano said, beaming widely as Antonio followed Lovino through. The Italian sat himself down, listening disinterestedly as Antonio, Ludwig and Feliciano exchanged platitudes, keeping his eyes trained on the various paintings hung up around the room. Feliciano had always been proud of his artwork and liked nothing better than to display it, even if he never drew attention to it. Lovino remembered the one time he'd commented on them, his brother had puffed up with pride even as he pretended they were nothing much. Antonio sat himself down to the left of Lovino around the square table. Ludwig brought over the potatoes and rice, one in each hand and placed them in the centre of the table, sitting himself opposite the Italian, so that Feliciano would be to Lovino's right. Feliciano finally brought over the meatloaf, bringing it over in a tray so that it was marinating in its juices. "Help yourself guys!" he said eagerly, a wide smile on his face as he sat himself down. He began chatting excitedly to Antonio about how everything was, while he poured out some wine to everyone while Ludwig nodded, taking up the cutlery and slicing into the meat, proffering a piece to Feliciano, then to Antonio and finally to Lovino, who brought up his plate and grunted his thanks, keeping a neutral, disinterested expression on his face. He helped himself to a few potatoes and a helping of rice, keeping his eyes trained on the food as he pushed it around his plate in-between mouthfuls, only half listening to the conversation between the other three men. Feliciano and Antonio seemed to have moved on from updating each other about their lives into discussion over work, Ludwig joining in. He learnt that Ludwig worked in some sort of accounting job, while Antonio was a shop assistant in a local shop, sorting out deliveries, cleaning, that sort of stuff. What was Lovino even still doing here? He had no desire to be here at all, he'd come to see and chat with his brother, now he had to put up with these two clowns monopolising Feliciano's time and drowning out any proper conversation the Italian could have with his brother by discussing their inane prattle and-

"What about yourself, Lovino?" A voice suddenly jolted him out of his thoughts and he raised his eyes to find himself being stared at by all three others. "How's work been treating you?" Ludwig continued, clearly intent on trying to include his new friend's brother in the conversation. Damn him, he was almost perfect for Feliciano in the way he seemed intent on doing that.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Oh it's been just peachy," he replied, voice laced with sarcasm. A thin smile slipped onto his face as he glanced over at Antonio. "Although there's been a new customer these past coupla weeks." He raised his glass to his lips, taking a sip. "Real piece of work, harasses the staff like you wouldn't believe, quite the class act."

It took a few seconds for Antonio to understand just who the Italian was referring to and as he did, a smile grew on his own face. "Oh I don't know," he said, voice feigning innocence, "by all accounts their barman there is quite the act himself."

Lovino turned, eyes boring into Antonio's. "I'm sure he could never get even close to the shit this guy's been up to. Had to be driven home one time because he'd somehow managed to hurt himself and couldn't walk."

Antonio's smile only grew. "Didn't you- ah, 'the barman' need to be taken home one night too?" He finished the rest of his glass, a sly grin on his face. "Had to be escorted all the way to his door, as I remember."

"Only because you're a paranoid stalker and Manon can't leave well enough alone. I could have got home perfectly fine, let alone right up to my door," Lovino ground out, dropping the pretence of who exactly they were talking about. His response provoked a chuckle from the Spaniard and he speared a small potato onto his fork, pointing it accusingly towards the man, a thin smile forming on his face. "At least I never had to be _buckled into my own seat _because I couldn't work a simple seat-belt."

"Well-"

"Nor did _I_ fall asleep on the way back."

It was Feliciano who spoke next, an excited look on his face as though he'd just stumbled on a treasure cove. "Hey, what's all this about? You never told me anything about this! Did you need to be taken home one night, Lovi?"

"I didn't _need_ to be," Lovino retorted, spinning round to face his brother. "And it's none of your business anyway."

Antonio only chuckled, nodding at Feliciano's words and continuing on. "Well maybe two weeks ago or so, Lovino got drunk one evening-"

"I did not get drunk! I was perfectly fine!" the Italian protested, turning round to face the Spaniard again. "Why are you even bringing it up? It's not like we had some magical fucking adventure, all we did was walk a while and then go our separate ways. Now just drink your goddamn wine and shut up," he said, grabbing the bottle of wine from the table and pouring it into Antonio's glass, mustering the best glare he could. He poured himself some more too and took a sip of it. Despite the death-glare he was sending the Spaniard, he didn't feel nearly as angry as he'd expected to be. The other man duly stopped talking, raising the wine-glass to his lips, though his sly smile remained even as Feliciano pressed for more information, clearly intent on digging something up. With neither Lovino nor Antonio detailing further, the conversation drifted off to other matters. Time passed quickly as they ate and chatted about various topics, Lovino occasionally butting in to add his opinion on the matter but saying little more otherwise.

As everyone finished eating they cleared the table. The whole little dinner having been planned on such short notice Feliciano had no proper dessert to offer, simply suggesting fruits instead, with tea, coffee or more wine. Lovino declined, insisting that he had a busy day tomorrow and had stuff to prepare, though the look on his brother's face suggested Feliciano had seen straight through his attempt at finding an excuse to leave. Grunting a goodbye he grabbed his jacket, shrugging it on and heading for the door.

He'd just stepped out into the night air when a hand grabbed the door behind him. The Italian turned to glance at its owner and frowned deeply as he saw just who it was. His usual grin on his face, Antonio stepped out besides Lovino. "_Hola_," he said, "had to go early too, early for work tomorrow."

Lovino sighed, nodding, face impassive. "Don't want to be the third wheel, too, I imagine."

A confused expression hit the other man's face and he tilted his head. "Eh?"

The Italian simply stared at him for a few seconds. "Oh c'mon, you _must_ have noticed the pair up there making googly eyes at each other?" he said disbelievingly. Antonio shook his head. "Fuck, half of what Feli talks about nowadays is 'Luddy this' and 'Luddy that'! They've got pet names! Feli calls him Luddy!"

Antonio laughed, shrugging. "And he calls you Lovi and you call him Feli, they're nicknames, not pet names. I'm sure they're just friends, Lovino. There's nothing there, don't you think you're taking things the wrong way?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, a sharp chuckle escaping his lips. "Sure, let me just believe the unobservant idiot. You'd think a Spaniard would be able to pick up those sort of signs."

"Hey now! That's a hateful stereotype, puts all sort of undue pressure on us." The tanned man grinned. "Though I'm sure as an Italian you must have had people make those sorts of assumptions too."

"Oh please, with my attitude?" Antonio chuckled, a smile even reaching Lovino's face as silence descended between the two of them for a few seconds.

The silence broke as Antonio reached up to scratch the back of his neck, looking across at the Italian. "Uh, hey, before I forget. Are you free around 12 tomorrow? If so, do you want to maybe go get a coffee or something maybe?" Lovino stood stony-faced for several seconds. This again? Did the man ever give up? He opened his mouth to deliver a sharp refusal but was stopped as Antonio raised his hands in a pre-emptive calming gesture. "Strictly just as friends!" he quickly added. "You've made your position real clear and I respect that. I'm not gonna bug you or anything, but I do honestly enjoy talking with you."

Lovino said nothing for several seconds longer, mind churning through all Antonio really think they could be friends? Hadn't the insults the Italian had dished out told him just what Lovino thought of that? He was sure he didn't make much of a good friend anyway, and how could the Spaniard enjoy spending time with him when half of what Lovino said were just insults? Maybe the man just hadn't spent enough time with him to realise that he was wasting his time. Well, what harm could it do anyway? He sighed deeply, giving a shrug. "Fine," he said shortly.

A wider grin shot onto Antonio's face as he nodded happily. "Great!" They spoke a minute or so longer as the Spaniard suggested which coffee-shop they should meet at, suggesting they meet at midday since that was when he had an hour's lunch break. Then with a wave the two separated into the night. Breath collecting before him in the cold night air, Lovino shoved his hands into his jacket, staring down at the ground. He was not sure he was happy with what he'd agreed to. Sighing once more for good measure he crossed the road, kicking the curb softly, lost in thought as he made his way down to the bus-stop and home.


End file.
